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THE 

STORY   OF   MY   LIFE 

FROM  CHILDHOOD   TO  MANHOOD 


BY 

GEORG    EBERS 

AUTHOR   OF  JOSHUA,    UARDA,    AN    EGYPTIAN    PRINCESS,    THE    BRIDB 
OF  THE   NILE,   SERAPIS,   A   THORNY    PATH,    ETC. 


TRANSLATED   BY 

MARY  J.   SAFFORD 


WITH  PO)RTP>AIT6  , 


NEW    YORK 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 
1893 


UhC  1904 


COPYRIGHT,  1893, 
BY  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


TT 


DEDICATED    TO 

MY    THREE    SONS 


TO   MY   SONS. 

WHEN  I  began  the  incidents  of  yore, 

Still  in  my  soul's  depths  treasured,  to  record, 

A  voice  within  said  :  Soon,  life's  journey  o'er, 
Thy  portrait  sole  remembrance  will  afford. 

And,  ere  the  last  hour  also  strikes  for  tAee, 
Search  thou  the  harvest  of  the  vanished  years. 

Not  futile  was  thy  toil,  if  thou  canst  see 

That  for  thy  sons  fruit  from  one  seed  appears. 

Upon  the  course  of  thine  own  life  look  back, 
Follow  thy  struggles  upwards  to  the  light ; 

Methinks  thy  errors  will  not  seem  so  black, 
If  they  thy  loved  ones  serve  to  guide  aright. 

And  should  they  see  the  star  which  'mid  the  dark 
Illumed  thy  pathway  to  thy  distant  goal, 

Thither  they'll  turn  the  prow  of  their  life  bark  ; 
Its  radiance  tfieir  course  also  will  control. 

Ay,  when  the  ivy  on  my  grave  doth  grow, 

When  my  dead  hand  the  helm  no  more  obeys, 

This  book  to  them  the  twofold  light  will  show, 
To  which  I  ne'er  forget  to  turn  my  gaze. 

One  heavenward  draws,  with  rays  so  mild  and  clear, 
Eyes  dim  with  tears,  when  the  world  darkness  veils, 

Showing  'mid  desert  wastes  the  spring  anear, 
If,  spent  with  wandering,  your  courage  fails. 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

Since  first  your  lips  could  syllable  a  prayer, 
Its  mercy  you  have  proved  a  thousandfold  ; 

I  too  received  it,  though  unto  my  share 
Fell  what  I  pray  life  ne'er  (or  you  may  hold. 

The  other  light,  whose  power  full  well  you  know, 
E'en  though  in  words  I  nor  describe  nor  name, 

Alike  for  me  and  you  its  rays  aye  glow — 
Maternal  love,  by  day  and  night  the  same. 

This  light  within  your  youthful  hearts  has  beamed, 
Ripening  the  germs  of  all  things  good  and  fair  ; 

I  also  fostered  them,  and  joyous  dreamed 
Of  future  progress  to  repay  our  care. 

Thus  guarded,  unto  manhood  you  have  grown  ; 

Still  upward,  step  by  step,  you  steadfast  rise : 
The  oldest,  healing's  noble  art  has  won  ; 

The  second,  to  his  country's  call  replies  ; 

The  third,  his  mind  to  form  is  toiling  still  ; 

And  as  this  book  to  you  I  dedicate, 
I  see  the  highest  wish  life  could  fulfil 

In  you,  my  trinity,  now  incarnate. 

To  pay  it  homage  meet,  my  sons  I'll  guide 
As  I  revere  it,  'mid  the  world's  turmoil, 

Love  for  mankind,  which  putteth  self  aside, 
In  love  for  native  land  and  blessed  toil. 

GEORG  EBERS. 

TOTZ1NG    ON    THE   STARNBERGER    SEE, 

October  i,  1892. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — GLANCING  BACKWARD i 

II. — MY    EARLIEST   CHILDHOOD  .....      II 
III. — ON   FESTAL   DAYS 26 

IV. — THE  JOURNEY  TO   HOLLAND  TO  ATTEND  THE 

GOLDEN  WEDDING 37 

V. — LENNESTRASSE. — LENNE. — EARLY  IMPRESSIONS  .    46 

VI.  —  MY  INTRODUCTION  TO  ART,  AND  ACQUAINT- 
ANCES GREAT  AND  SMALL  IN  THE  LENNE- 
STRASSE   62 

VII. — WHAT  A  BERLIN  CHILD  ENJOYED  ON  THE  SPREE 

AND  AT  HIS  GRANDMOTHER'S  IN  DRESDEN    .    'yg 

VIII. — THE   REVOLUTIONARY    PERIOD       .  .  .  -93 

IX. — THE   EIGHTEENTH    OF    MARCH      .  .  .  .112 

X. — AFTER  THE  NIGHT  OF  REVOLUTION  .        .        .118 

(/XL — IN  KEILHAU 132 

£-XII. — FRIEDRICH  FROEBEL'S  IDEAL  OF  EDUCATION    .  154 

//XIII. — THE    FOUNDERS   OF   THE    KEILHAU     INSTITUTE, 
AND     A    GLIMPSE    AT    THE    HISTORY    OF    THE 

SCHOOL 175 

I/KIV. — IN    THE    FOREST    AND    ON    THE    MOOR  .  .  .    2O6 

i  XXV. — SUMMER  PLEASURES  AND  RAMBLES     .        .        .215 


viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVI. — AUTUMN,  WINTER,  EASTER,  AND  DEPARTURE     .  227 

XVII. — THE    GYMNASIUM    AND    THE    FIRST    PERIOD    OF 

UNIVERSITY  LIFE 2^4 

XVIII. — THE  TIME   OF   EFFERVESCENCE  AND  MY  SCHOOL- 
MATES           253 

XIX. — A    ROMANCE.  WHICH-  REALLY    HAPPENED      .  .    267 

XX. — AT   THE   QUEDLINBURG    GYMNASIUM   .  .  .    285 

XXI. — AT  THE  UNIVERSITY 291 

XXII. — THE  SHIPWRECK 309 

XXIII. — THE   HARDEST    TIME   IN  THE   SCHOOL   OF  LIFE    .    321 

XXIV. — THE  APPRENTICESHIP 328 

XXV. — THE  SUMMERS  OF  MY  CONVALESCENCE      .        .  346 
XXVI. — CONTINUANCE    OF    CONVALESCENCE    AND    THE 

FIRST   NOVEL 367 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 


CHAPTER    I. 

GLANCING    BACKWARD. 

/3237 
THOUGH  I  was  born  in  Berlin,  it  was  also  in 

the  country.  True,  it  was  fifty-five  years  ago  ;  for 
my  birthday  was  March  i,  1837,  and  at  that  time  the 
house*  where  I  slept  and  played  during  the  first 
years  of  my  childhood  possessed,  besides  a  field 
and  a  meadow,  an  orchard  and  dense  shrubbery, 
even  a  hill  and  a  pond.  Three  big  horses,  the 
property  of  the  owner  of  our  residence,  stood  in 
the  stable,  and  the  lowing  of  a  cow,  usually  an  un- 
familiar  sound  to  Berlin  children,  blended  with  my 
earliest  recollections. 

The  Thiergartenstrasse — along  which  in  those 
days  on  sunny  mornings,  a  throng  of  people  on 
foot,  on  horseback,  and  in  carriages  constantly 
moved  to  and  fro — ran  past  the  front  of  these 
spacious  grounds,  whose  rear  was  bounded  by  a 

*  No.  4  Thiergartenstrasse. 


2  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

piece  of  water  then  called  the  "  Schafgraben,"  and 
which,  spite  of  the  duckweed  that  covered  it  with 
a  dark-green  network  of  leafage,  was  used  for 
boating  in  light  skiffs. 

Now  a  strongly  built  wall  of  masonry  lines  the 
banks  of  this  ditch,  which  has  been  transformed 
into  a  deep  canal  bordered  by  the  handsome  houses 
of  the  Konigin  Augustastrasse,  and  along  which 
pass  countless  heavily  laden  barges  called  by  the 
Berliners  "  Zillen." 

The  land  where  I  played  in  my  childhood  has 
long  been  occupied  by  the  Matthaikirche,  the  pret- 
ty street  which  bears  the  same  name,  and  a  portion 
of  Konigin  Augustastrasse,  but  the  house  which 
we  occupied  and  its  larger  neighbour  are  still  sur- 
rounded by  a  fine  garden. 

This  was  an  Eden  for  city  children,  and  my 
mother  had  chosen  it  because  she  beheld  it  in 
imagination  flowing  with  the  true  Garden  of  Para- 
dise rivers  of  health  and  freedom  for  her  little 
ones. 

My  father  died  on  the  i4th  of  February,  1837, 
and  on  the  ist  of  March  of  the  same  year  I  was 
born,  a  fortnight  after  the  death  of  the  man  in 
whom  my  mother  was  bereft  of  both  husband  and 
lover.  So  I  am  what  is  termed  a  "  posthumous  " 
child.  This  is  certainly  a  sorrowful  fate;  but 
though  there  were  many  hours,  especially  in  the 
later  years  of  my  life,  in  which  I  longed  for  a  father, 


GLANCING  BACKWARD.  3 

it  often  seemed  to  me  a  noble  destiny  and  one 
worthy  of  the  deepest  gratitude  to  have  been 
appointed,  from  the  first  moment  of  my  existence, 
to  one  of  the  happiest  tasks,  that  of  consolation 
and  cheer. 

It  was  to  soothe  a  mother's  heartbreak  that  I 
came  in  the  saddest  hours  of  her  life,  and,  though 
my  locks  are  now  grey,  I  have  not  forgotten  the 
joyful  moments  in  which  that  dear  mother  hugged 
her  fatherless  little  one,  and  among  other  pet 
names  called  him  her  "comfort  child." 

She  told  me  also  that  posthumous  children 
were  always  Fortune's  favorites,  and  in  her  wise, 
loving  way  strove  to  make  me  early  familiar  with 
the  thought  that  God  always  held  in  his  special 
keeping  those  children  whose  fathers  he  had  taken 
before  their  birth.  This  confidence  accompanied 
me  through  all  my  after  life. 

As  I  have  said,  it  was  long  before  I  became 
aware  that  I  lacked  anything,  especially  any  bless- 
ing so  great  as  a  father's  faithful  love  and  care ; 
and  when  life  showed  to  me  also  a  stern  face  and 
imposed  heavy  burdens,  my  courage  was  strength- 
ened by  my  happy  confidence  that  I  was  one  of 
Fortune's  favorites,  as  others  are  buoyed  up  by 
their  firm  faith  in  their  "star." 

When  the  time  at  last  came  that  I  longed  to 
express  the  emotions  of  my  soul  in  verse,  I  em- 
bodied my  mother's  prediction  in  the  lines: 


4  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

r 

The  child  who  first  beholds  the  light  of  day 
After  his  father's  eyes  are  closed  for  aye, 
Fortune  will  guard  from  every  threatening  ill, 
For  God  himself  a  father's  place  will  fill. 

People  often  told  me  that  as  the  youngest,  the 
nestling,  I  was  my  mother's  "  spoiled  child  "  ;  but  if 
anything  spoiled  me  it  certainly  was  not  that.  No 
child  ever  yet  received  too  many  tokens  of  love 
from  a  sensible  mother ;  and,  thank  Heaven,  the 
word  applied  to  mine.  Fate  had  summoned  her 
to  be  both  father  and  mother  to  me  and  my  four 
brothers  and  sisters — one  little  brother,  her  second 
child,  had  died  in  infancy — and  she  proved  equal 
to  the  task.  Everything  good  which  was  and  is 
ours  we  owe  to  her,  and  her  influence  over  us  all, 
and  especially  over  me,  who  was  afterward  per- 
mitted to  live  longest  in  close  relations  with  her, 
was  so  great  and  so  decisive,  that  strangers  would 
only  half  understand  these  stories  of  my  childhood 
unless  I  gave  a  fuller  description  of  her. 

These  details  are  intended  particularly  for  my 
children,  my  brothers  and  sisters,  and  the  dear 
ones  connected  with  our  family  by  ties  of  blood 
and  friendship,  but  I  see  no  reason  for  not  making 
them  also  accessible  to  wider  circles.  There  has 
been  no  lack  of  requests  from  friends  that  I  should 
write  them,  and  many  of  those  who  listen  willingly 
when  I  tell  romances  will  doubtless  also  be  glad  to 
learn  something  concerning  the  life  of  the  fabulist, 


GLANCING   BACKWARD.  5 

who,  however,  in  these  records  intends  to  silence 
imagination  and  adhere  rigidly  to  the  motto  of  his 
later  life,  "  To  be  truthful  in  love." 

My  mother's  likeness  as  a  young  woman  ac- 
companies these  pages,  and  must  spare  me  the 
task  of  describing  her  appearance.  It  was  copied 
from  the  life-size  portrait  completed  for  the  young 
husband  by  Schadow  just  prior  to  his  appointment 
as  head  of  the  Diisseldorf  Academy  of  Art,  and 
now  in  the  possession  of  my  brother,  Dr.  Martin 
Ebers^  of  Berlin.  Unfortunately,  our  copy  lacks 
the  colouring  ;  and  the  dress  of  the  original,  which 
shows  the  whole  figure,  confirms  the  experience  of 
the  error  committed  in  faithfully  reproducing  the 
fashion  of  the  day  in  portraits  intended  for  future 
generations.  It  never  fully  satisfied  me;  for  it 
very  inadequately  reproduces  what  was  especially 
precious  to  us  in  our  mother  and  lent  her  so  great 
a  charm — her  feminine  grace,  and  the  tenderness 
of  heart  so  winningly  expressed  in  her  soft  blue 
eyes. 

No  one  could  help  pronouncing  her  beautiful ; 
but  to  me  she  was  at  once  the  fairest  and  the  best 
of  women,  and  if  I  make  the  suffering  Stephanus  in 
Homo  Sum  say,  "  For  every  child  his  own  mother 
is  the  best  mother,"  mine  certainly  was  to  me.  My 
heart  rejoiced  when  I  perceived  that  every  one 
shared  this  appreciation.  At  the  time  of  my  birth 
she  was  thirty-five,  and,  as  I  have  heard  from 


6  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

many  old  acquaintances,  in  the  full  glow  of  her 
beauty. 

My  father  had  been  one  of  the  Berlin  gentle- 
men to  whose  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  and  taste  for 
art  the  Konigstadt  Theater  owed  its  prosperity, 
and  was  thus  brought  into  intimate  relations  with 
Carl  von  Holtei,  who  worked  for  its  stage  both  as 
dramatist  and  actor.  When,  as  a  young  professor, 
I  told  the  grey-haired  author  in  my  mother's  name 
something  which  could  not  fail  to  afford  him  pleas- 
ure, I  received  the  most  eager  assent  to  my  query 
whether  he  still  remembered  her.  "  How  I  thank 
your  admirable  mother  for  inducing  you  to  write  !  " 
ran  the  letter.*  "  Only  I  must  enter  a  protest 
against  your  first  lines,  suggesting  that  I  might 
have  forgotten  her.  I  forget  the  beautiful,  gentle, 
clever,  steadfast  woman  who  (to  quote  Shake- 
speare's words)  '  came  adorned  hither  like  sweet 
May,'  and,  stricken  by  the  hardest  blows  so  soon 
after  her  entrance  into  her  new  life,  gloriously 
endured  every  trial  of  fate  to  become  the  fairest 
bride,  the  noblest  wife,  most  admirable  widow,  and 
most  faithful  mother !  No,  my  young  unknown 
friend,  I  have  far  too  much  with  which  to  reproach 
myself,  have  brought  from  the  conflicts  of  a  change- 
ful life  a  lacerated  heart,  but  I  have  never  reached 

*  Preserved  in  the  collection  of  autographs  made  by  my  old- 
est daughter,  Baroness  v.  d.  Rapp,  of  Marburg. 


GLANCING   BACKWARD.  7 

the  point  where  that  heart  ceased  to  cherish  Fanny 
Ebers  among  the  most  sacred  memories  of  my 
chequered  career.  How  often  her  loved  image  ap- 
pears before  me  when,  in  lonely  twilight  hours,  I 
recall  the  past!  " 

Yes,  Fate  early  afforded  my  mother  an  oppor- 
tunity to  test  her  character.  The  city  where  shortly 
before  my  birth  she  became  a  widow  was  not  her 
native  place.  My  father  had  met  her  in  Holland, 
when  he  was  scarcely  more  than  a  beardless  youth. 
The  letter  informing  his  relatives  that  he  had  deter- 
mined not  to  give  up  the  girl  his  heart  had  chosen 
was  not  regarded  seriously  in  Berlin  ;  but  when  the 
lover,  with  rare  pertinacity,  clung  to  his  resolve, 
they  began  to  feel  anxious.  The  eldest  son  of  one 
of  the  richest  families  in  the  city,  a  youth  of  nine- 
teen, wished  to  bind  himself  for  life — and  to  a  for- 
eigner— a  total  stranger. 

My  mother  often  told  us  that  her  father,  too, 
refused  to  listen  to  the  young  suitor,  and  how,  dur- 
ing that  time  of  conflict,  while  she  was  with  her 
family  at  Scheveningen,  a  travelling  carriage  drawn 
by  four  horses  stopped  one  day  before  her  parents' 
unpretending  house.  From  this  coach  descended 
the  future  mother-in-law.  She  had  come  to  see  the 
paragon  of  whom  her  son  had  written  so  enthusi- 
astically, and  to  learn  whether  it  would  be  possible 
to  yield  to  the  youth's  urgent  desire  to  establish  a 
household  of  his  own.  And  she  did  find  it  possible; 
2 


8  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

for  the  girl's  rare  beauty  and  grace  speedily  won 
the  heart  of  the  anxious  woman  who  had  really 
come  to  separate  the  lovers.  True,  they  were  re- 
quired to  wait  a  few  years  to  test  the  sincerity  of 
their  affection.  But  it  withstood  the  proof,  and  the 
young  man,  who  had  been  sent  to  Bordeaux  to  ac- 
quire in  a  commercial  house  the  ability  to  manage 
his  father's  banking  business,  did  not  hesitate  an 
instant  when  his  beautiful  fiancte  caught  the  small- 
pox and  wrote  that  her  smooth  face  would  probably 
be  disfigured  by  the  malignant  disease,  but  an- 
swered that  what  he  loved  was  not  only  her 
beauty  but  the  purity  and  goodness  of  her  tender 
heart. 

This  had  been  a  severe  test,  and  it  was  to  be 
rewarded :  not  the  smallest  scar  remained  to  recall 
the  illness.  When  my  father  at  last  made  my 
mother  his  wife,  the  burgomaster  of  her  native  city 
told  him  that  he  gave  to  his  keeping  the  pearl  of 
Rotterdam.  Post-horses  took  the  young  couple  in 
the  most  magnificent  weather  to  the  distant  Prus- 
sian capital.  It  must  have  been  a  delightful  jour- 
ney, but  when  the  horses  were  changed  in  Potsdam 
the  bride  and  groom  received  news  that  the  latter's 
father  was  dead. 

So  my  parents  entered  a  house  of  mourning. 
My  mother  at  that  time  had  only  the  slight  mastery 
of  German  acquired  during  hours  of  industrious 
study  for  her  future  husband's  sake.  She  did  not 


GLANCING   BACKWARD.  9 

possess  in  all  Berlin  a  single  friend  or  relative  of 
her  own  family,  yet  she  soon  felt  at  home  in  the 
capital.  She  loved  my  father.  Heaven  gave  her 
children,  and  her  rare  beauty,  her  winning  charm, 
and  the  receptivity  of  her  mind  quickly  opened  all 
hearts  to  her  in  circles  even  wider  than  her  hus- 
band's large  family  connection.  The  latter  in- 
cluded many  households  whose  guests  numbered 
every  one  whose  achievements  in  science  or  art,  or 
possession  of  large  wealth,  had  rendered  them 
prominent  in  Berlin,  and  the  "  beautiful  Hollander," 
as  my  mother  was  then  called,  became  one  of  the 
most  courted  women  in  society. 

Holtei  had  made  her  acquaintance  at  this  time, 
and  it  was  a  delight  to  hear  her  speak  of  those  gay, 
brilliant  days.  How  often  Baron  von  Humboldt, 
Rauch,  or  Schleiermacher  had  escorted  her  to  din- 
ner !  Hegel  had  kept  a  blackened  coin  won  from 
her  at  whist.  Whenever  he  sat  down  to  play  cards 
with  her  he  liked  to  draw  it  out,  and,  showing  it  to 
his  partner,  say,  "  My  thaler,  fair  lady." 

My  mother,  admired  and  petted,  had  thoroughly 
enjoyed  the  happy  period  of  my  father's  lifetime, 
entertaining  as  a  hospitable  hostess  or  visiting 
friends,  and  she  gladly  recalled  it.  But  this  brilliant 
life,  filled  to  overflowing  with  all  sorts  of  amuse- 
ments, had  been  interrupted  just  before  my  birth. 

The  beloved  husband  had  died,  and  the  great 
wealth  of  our  family,  though  enough  remained  for 


10  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

comfortable  maintenance,  had  been  much  dimin- 
ished. 

Such  changes  of  outward  circumstances  are 
termed  reverses  of  fortune,  and  the  phrase  is  fitting, 
for  by  them  life  gains  a  new  form.  Yet  real  happi- 
ness is  more  frequently  increased  than  lessened,  if 
only  they  do  not  entail  anxiety  concerning  daily 
bread.  My  mother's  position  was  far  removed 
from  this  point;  but  she  possessed  qualities  which 
would  have  undoubtedly  enabled  her,  even  in  far 
more  modest  circumstances,  to  retain  her  cheerful- 
ness and  fight  her  way  bravely  with  her  children 
through  life. 

The  widow  resolved  that  her  sons  should  make 
their  way  by  their  own  industry,  like  her  brothers, 
who  had  almost  all  become  able  officials  in  the 
Dutch  colonial  service.  Besides,  the  change  in  her 
circumstances  brought  her  into  closer  relations 
with  persons  with  whom  by  inclination  and  choice 
she  became  even  more  intimately  associated  than 
with  the  members  of  my  father's  family — I  mean 
the  clique  of  scholars  and  government  officials 
amid  whose  circle  her  children  grew  up,  and  whom 
I  shall  mention  later. 

Our  relatives,  however,  even  after  my  father's 
death,  showed  the  same  regard  for  my  mother — 
who  on  her  side  was  sincerely  attached  to  many  of 
them — and  urged  her  to  accept  the  hospitality  of 
their  homes.  I,  too,  when  a  child,  still  more  in  later 


MY  EARLIEST   CHILDHOOD.  ri 

years,  owe  to  the  Beer  family  many  a  happy  hour. 
My  father's  cousin,  Moritz  von  Oppenfeld,  whose 
wife  was  an  Ebers,  was  also  warmly  attached  to  us. 
He  lived  in  a  house  which  he  owned  on  the  Pariser 
Platz,  now  occupied  by  the  French  embassy,  and 
in  whose  spacious  apartments  and  elsewhere  his 
kind  heart  and  tender  love  prepared  countless 
pleasures  for  our  young  lives. 


CHAPTER   II. 

MY    EARLIEST    CHILDHOOD. 

MY  father  died  in  Leipzigerstrasse,  where,  two 
weeks  after,  I  was  born.  It  is  reported  that  I  was 
an  unusually  sturdy,  merry  little  fellow.  One  of 
my  father's  relatives,  Frau  Mosson,  said  that  I  actu- 
ally laughed  on  the  third  day  of  my  life,  and  several 
other  proofs  of  my  precocious  cheerfulness  were 
related  by  this  lady. 

So  I  must  believe  that — less  wise  than  Lessing's 
son,  who  looked  at  life  and  thought  it  would  be 
more  prudent  to  turn  his  back  upon  it — I  greeted 
with  a  laugh  the  existence  which,  amid  beautiful 
days  of  sunshine,  was  to  bring  me  so  many  hours 
of  suffering. 

Spring  was  close  at  hand ;  the  house  in  noisy 
Leipzigerstrasse  was  distasteful  to  my  mother,  her 


12  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

soul  longed  for  rest,  and  at  that  time  she  formed 
the  resolutions  according  to  which  she  afterward 
strove  to  train  her  boys  to  be  able  men.  Her  first 
object  was  to  obtain  pure  air  for  the  little  children, 
and  room  for  the  larger  ones  to  exercise.  So  she 
looked  for  a  residence  outside  the  gate,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  renting  for  a  term  of  years  No.  4  Thier- 
gartenstrasse,  which  I  have  already  mentioned. 

The  owner,  Frau  Kommissionsrath  Reichert, 
had  also  lost  her  husband  a  short  time  before,  and 
had  determined  to  let  the  house,  which  stood  near 
her  own,  stand  empty  rather  than  rent  it  to  a  large 
family  of  children. 

Alone  herself,*  she  shrank  from  the  noise  of 
growing  boys  and  girls.  But  she  had  a  warm,  kind 
heart,  and — she  told  me  this  herself — the  sight  of 
the  beautiful  young  mother  in  her  deep  mourning 
made  her  quickly  forget  her  prejudice.  "If  she 
had  brought  ten  bawlers  instead  of  five,"  she  re- 
marked, "  I  would  not  have  refused  the  house  to 
that  angel  face." 

We  all  cherish  a  kindly  memory  of  the  vigorous, 
alert  woman,  with  her  round,  bright  countenance 
and  laughing  eyes.  She  soon  became  very  inti- 
mate with  my  mother,  and  my  second  sister,  Paula, 
was  her  special  favorite,  on  whom  she  lavished 
every  indulgence.  Her  horses  were  the  first  ones 

*  She  afterward  married  Landralh  Ulrici. 


MY  EARLIEST   CHILDHOOD.  j-j 

on  which  I  was  lifted,  and  she  often  took  us  with 
her  in  the  carriage  or  sent  us  to  ride  in  it. 

I  still  remember  distinctly  some  parts  of  our 
garden,  especially  the  shady  avenue  leading  from 
our  balcony  on  the  ground  floor  to  the  Schafgraben, 
the  pond,  the  beautiful  flower-beds  in  front  of  Frau 
Reichert's  stately  house,  and  the  field  of  potatoes 
where  I — the  gardener  was  the  huntsman — saw  my 
first  partridge  shot.  This  was  probably  on  the  very 
spot  where  for  many  years  the  notes  of  the  organ 
have  pealed  through  the  Matthaikirche,  and  the 
Word  of  God  has  been  expounded  to  a  congrega- 
tion whose  residences  stand  on  the  playground  of 
my  childhood. 

The  house  which  sheltered  us  was  only  two 
stories  high,  but  pretty  and  spacious.  We  needed 
abundant  room,  for,  besides  my  mother,  the  five 
children,  and  the  female  servants,  accommodation 
was  required  for  the  governess,  and  a  man  who  held 
a  position  midway  between  porter  and  butler  and 
deserved  the  title  of  factotum  if  any  one  ever  did. 
His  name  was  Kiirschner ;  he  was  a  big-boned, 
square-built  fellow  about  thirty  years  old,  who  al- 
ways wore  in  his  buttonhole  the  little  ribbon  of  the 
order  he  had  gained  as  a  soldier  at  the  siege  of 
Antwerp,  and  who  had  been  taken  into  the  house 
by  our  mother  for  our  protection,  for  in  winter  our 
home,  surrounded  by  its  spacious  grounds,  was 
very  lonely. 


14  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

As  for  us  five  children,  first  came  my  oldest 
sister  Martha — now,  alas  !  dead — the  wife  of  Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Baron  Curt  von  Brandenstein,  and 
my  brother  Martin,  who  were  seven  and  five  years 
older  than  I. 

They  were,  of  course,  treated  differently  from 
us  younger  ones. 

Paula  was  my  senior  by  three  years ;  Ludwig,  or 
Ludo — he  was  called  by  his  nickname  all  his  life — 
by  a  year  and  a  half. 

Paula,  a  fresh,  pretty,  bright,  daring  child,  was 
often  the  leader  in  our  games  and  undertakings. 
Ludo,  who  afterward  became  a  soldier  and  as  a 
Prussian  officer  did  good  service  in  the  war,  was 
a  gentle  boy,  somewhat  delicate  in  health — the 
broad-shouldered  man  shows  no  trace  of  it — and 
the  best  of  playfellows.  We  were  always  togeth- 
er, and  were  frequently  mistaken  for  twins.  We 
shared  everything,  and  on  my  birthday,  gifts  were 
bestowed  on  him  too ;  on  his,  upon  me. 

Each  had  forgotten  the  first  person  singular  of 
the  personal  pronoun,  and  not  until  comparatively 
late  in  life  did  I  learn  to  use  "  I  "  and  "  me  "  in  the 
place  of  "  we  "  and  "  us." 

The  sequence  of  events  in  this  quiet  country 
home  has,  of  course,  vanished  from  my  mind,  and 
perhaps  many  which  I  mention  here  occurred  in 
Lennestrasse,  where  we  moved  later,  but  the  mem- 
ories of  the  time  we  spent  in  the  Thiergarten — 


MY  EARLIEST   CHILDHOOD.  jg 

overlooked  by  our  second  home — are  among  the 
brightest  of  my  life.  How  often  the  lofty  trees 
and  dense  shrubbery  of  our  own  grounds  and  the 
beautiful  Berlin  Thiergarten  rise  before  my  mental 
vision,  when  my  thoughts  turn  backward  and  I  see 
merry  children  playing  among  them,  and  hear  their 
joyous  laughter ! 

Fairy  Tales  and  Fact. 

What  happened  in  the  holy  of  holies,  my  moth- 
er's chamber,  has  remained,  down  to  the  smallest 
details,  permanently  engraved  upon  my  soul. 

A  mother's  heart  is  like  the  sun — no  matter  how 
much  light  it  diffuses,  its  warmth  and  brilliancy 
never  lessen ;  and  though  so  lavish  a  flood  of  ten- 
derness was  poured  forth  on  me,  the  other  children 
were  no  losers.  But  I  was  the  youngest,  the  com- 
forter, the  nestling ;  and  never  was  the  fact  of  so 
much  benefit  to  me  as  at  that  time. 

My  parents'  bed  stood  in  the  green  room  with 
the  bright  carpet.  It  had  been  brought  from  Hol- 
land, and  was  far  larger  and  wider  than  bedsteads 
of  the  present  day.  My  mother  had  kept  it.  A 
quilted  silk  coverlet  was  spread  over  it,  which  felt 
exquisitely  soft,  and  beneath  which  one  could  rest 
delightfully.  When  the  time  for  rising  came,  my 
mother  called  me.  I  climbed  joyfully  into  her 
warm  bed,  and  she  drew  her  darling  into  her  arms, 
played  all  sorts  of  pranks  with  him,  and  never  did 


1 6  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

I  listen  to  more  beautiful  fairy  tales  than  at  those 
hours.  They  became  instinct  with  life  to  me,  and 
have  always  remained  so ;  for  my  mother  gave 
them  the  form  of  dramas,  in  which  I  was  permitted 
to  be  an  actor. 

The  best  one  of  all  was  Little  Red  Riding 
Hood.  I  played  the  little  girl  who  goes  into  the 
wood,  and  she  was  the  wolf.  When  the  wicked 
beast  had  disguised  itself  in  the  grandmother's 
cap  I  not  only  asked  the  regulation  questions: 
"  Grandmother,  what  makes  you  have  such  big 
eyes  ?  Grandmother,  why  is  your  skin  so  rough  ?  " 
etc.,  but  invented  new  ones  to  defer  the  grand  final 
effect,  which  followed  the  words,  "  Grandmother, 
why  do  you  have  such  big,  sharp  teeth  ? "  and  the 
answer,  "  So  that  I  can  eat  you,"  whereupon  the 
wolf  sprang  on  me  and  devoured  me — with  kisses. 

Another  time  I  was  Snow-White  and  she  the 
wicked  step-mother,  and  also  the  hunter,  the  dwarf, 
and  the  handsome  prince  who  married  her. 

How  real  this  merry  sport  made  the  distress  of 
persecuted  innocence,  the  terrors  and  charm  of 
the  forest,  the  joys  and  splendours  of  the  fairy 
realm  !  If  the  flowers  in  the  garden  had  raised  their 
voices  in  song,  if  the  birds  on  the  boughs  had  called 
and  spoken  to  me — nay,  if  a  tree  had  changed  into 
a  beautiful  fairy,  or  the  toad  in  the  damp  path  of 
our  shaded  avenue  into  a  witch — it  would  have 
seemed  only  natural. 


MY   EARLIEST  CHILDHOOD.  ij 

It  is  a  singular  thing  that  actual  events  which 
happened  in  those  early  days  have  largely  vanished 
from  my  memory ;  but  the  fairy  tales  I  heard  and 
secretly  experienced  became  firmly  impressed  on 
my  mind./  Education  and  life  provided  for  my 
familiarity  with  reality  in  all  its  harshness  and 
angles,  its  strains  and  hurts ;  but  who  in  later 
years  could  have  flung  wide  the  gates  of  the  king- 
dom where  everything  is  beautiful  and  good,  and 
where  ugliness  is  as  surely  doomed  to  destruction 
as  evil  to  punishment  ?  Even  poesy  in  our  times 
turns  from  the  Castalian  fount  whose  crystal-clear 
water  becomes  an  unclean  pool  and,  though  re- 
luctantly, obeys  the  impulse  to  make  its  abode  in 
the  dust  of  reality.  Therefore  I  plead  with  voice 
and  pen  in  behalf  of  fairy  tales ;  therefore  I  tell 
them  to  my  children  and  grandchildren,  and  have 
even  written  a  volume  of  them  myself. 

How  perverse  and  unjust  it  is  to  banish  the 
fairy  tale  from  the  life  of  the  child,  because  devo- 
tion to  its  charm  might  prove  detrimental  to  the 
grown  person  !  Has  not  the  former  the  same  claim 
to  consideration  as  the  latter  ? 

Every  child  is  entitled  to  expect  a  different 
treatment  and  judgment,  and  to  receive  what  is 
his  due  undiminished.  Therefore  it  is  unjust  to 
injure  and  rob  the  child  for  the  benefit  of  the  man. 
Are  we  even  sure  that  the  boy  is  destined  to  attain 
the  second  and  third  stages — youth  and  manhood  ? 


1 8  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

True,  there  are  some  apostles  of  caution  who  deny 
themselves  every  joy  of  existence  while  in  their 
prime,  in  order,  when  their  locks  are  grey,  to  pos- 
sess wealth  which  frequently  benefits  only  their 
heirs. 

All  sensible  mothers  will  doubtless,  like  ours, 
take  care  that  their  children  do  not  believe  the 
stories  which  they  tell  them  to  be  true.  I  do  not 
remember  any  time  when,  if  my  mind  had  been 
called  upon  to  decide,  I  should  have  thought  that 
anything  I  invented  myself  had  really  happened; 
but  I  know  that  we  were  often  unable  to  distin- 
guish whether  the  plausible  tale  related  by  some 
one  else  belonged  to  the  realm  of  fact  or  fiction. 
On  such  occasions  we  appealed  to  my  mother,  and 
her  answer  instantly  set  all  doubts  at  rest;  for  we 
thought  she  could  never  be  mistaken,  and  knew 
that  she  always  told  the  truth. 

(  As  to  the  stories  invented  by  myself,  I  fared 
like  other  imaginative  children.  I  could  imagine 
the  most  marvellous  things  about  every  member  of 
the  household,  and  while  telling  them — but  only 
during  that  time — I  often  fancied  that  they  were 
true ;  yet  the  moment  I  was  asked  whether  these 
things  had  actually  occurred,  it  seemed  as  if  I 
woke  from  a  dream.  I  at  once  separated  what  I 
had  imagined  from  what  I  had  actually  experienced, 
and  it  would  never  have  occurred  to  me  to  per- 
sist against  my  better  knowledge.  So  the  vividly 


MY   EARLIEST' CHILDHOOD.  jg 

S 

awakened  power  of  imagination  led  neither  me, 
my  brothers  and  sisters,  nor  my  children  and  grand- 
children into  falsehood.  \ 

In  after  years  I  abhorred  it,  not  only  because 
my  mother  would  rather  have  permitted  any  other 
offence  to  pass  unpunished,  but  because  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  perceiving  its  ugliness  very  early  in 
life.  When  only  seven  or  eight  years  old  I  heard 
a  boy — I  still  remember  his  name — tell  his  mother 
a  shameless  lie  about  some  prank  in  which  I  had 
shared.  I  did  not  interrupt  him  to  vindicate  the  < 
truth,  but  I  shrank  in  horror  with  the  feeling  of 
having  witnessed  a  crime. 

If  Ludo  and  I,  even  in  the  most  critical  situ- 
ations, adhered  to  the  truth  more  rigidly  than 
other  boys,  we  "  little  ones  "  owe  it  especially  to 
our  sister  Paula,  who  was  always  a  fanatic  in  its 
cause,  and  even  now  endures  many  an  annoyance 
because  she  scorns  the  trivial  "  necessary  fibs " 
deemed  allowable  by  society. 

True,  the  interesting  question  of  how  far 
"necessary  fibs"  are  justifiable  among  children, 
is  yet  to  be  considered  ;  but  what  did  we  know  of 
such  necessity  in  our  sports  in  the  Thiergarten  ? 
From  what  could  a  lie  have  saved  us  except  a 
blow  from  a  beloved  mother's  little  hand,  which, 
it  is  true,  when  any  special  misdeed  was  punished 
by  a  box  on  the  ear,  could  inflict  a  tolerable  amount 
of  pain  by  means  of  the  rings  which  adorned  it. 


20  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

There  is  a  tradition  that  once  when  she  had 
slapped  Paula's  pretty  face,  the  odd  child  rubbed 
her  cheek  and  said,  with  the  droll  calmness  that 
rarely  deserted  her,  "  When  you  want  to  strike  me 
again,  mother,  please  take  off  your  rings  first." 

The  Governess — The  Cemetery. 

During  the  time  we  lived  in  the  Thiergarten 
my  mother's  hand  scarcely  ever  touched  my  face 
except  in  a  caress.  Every  memory  of  her  is  bright 
and  beautiful.  I  distinctly  remember  how  merrily 
she  jested  and  played  with  us,  and  from  my  earliest 
recollections  her  beloved  face  always  greets  me 
cheerily.  Yet  she  had  moved  to  the  Thiergarten 
with  a  heart  oppressed  by  the  deepest  sorrow. 

I  know  from  the  woman  who  accompanied  her 
there  as  the  governess  of  the  two  eldest  children, 
and  became  a  faithful  friend,  how  deeply  she  need- 
ed consolation,  how  completely  her  feelings  har- 
monized with  the  widow's  weeds  she  wore,  and  in 
which  she  is  said  to  have  been  so  beautiful. 

The  name  of  this  rare  woman  was  Bernhardine 
Kron.  A  native  of  Mecklenburg,  she  united  to  rich 
and  wide  culture  the  sterling  character,  warmth  of 
feeling,  and  fidelity  of  this  sturdy  and  sympathetic 
branch  of  the  German  nation.  She  soon  became 
deeply  attached  to  the  young  widow,  to  whose 
children  she  was  to  devote  her  best  powers,  and, 
in  after  years,  her  eyes  often  grew  dim  when  she 


MY   EARLIEST   CHILDHOOD.  21 

spoke  of  the  time  during  which  she  shared  our 
mother's  grief  and  helped  her  in  her  work  of  edu- 
cation. 

Both  liked  to  recall  in  later  days  the  quiet 
evenings  when,  after  the  rest  of  the  household 
had  retired,  they  read  alone  or  discussed  what 
stirred  their  hearts.  Each  gave  the  other  what 
she  could.  The  German  governess  went  through 
our  classic  authors  with  her  employer,  and  my 
mother  read  to  her  the  works  of  Racine  and  Cor- 
neille,  and  urged  her  to  speak  French  and  English 
with  her ;  for,  like  many  natives  of  Holland,  her 
mastery  of  both  languages  was  as  thorough  as  if 
she  had  grown  up  in  Paris  or  London.  The  neces- 
sity of  studying  and  sharing  her  own  rich  intellec- 
tual possessions  continued  to  be  a  marked  trait  in 
my  mother's  character  until  late  in  life,  and  how 
much  cause  for  gratitude  we  all  have  for  the  share 
she  gave  us  of  her  own  knowledge  and  experience  ! 

Fraulein  Kron  always  deeply  appreciated  the  in- 
tellectual development  she  owed  to  her  employer, 
while  the  latter  never  forgot  the  comfort  and  sup- 
port bestowed  by  the  faithful  governess  in  the  most 
sorrowful  days  of  her  life.  When  I  first  became 
conscious  of  my  surroundings,  these  days  were 
over ;  but  in  saying  that  my  first  recollections  of 
my  mother  were  bright  and  cheerful,  I  forgot  the 
hours  devoted  to  my  father's  memory.  She  rarely 
brought  them  to  our  notice ;  a  certain  chaste  re- 


22  THE   STORY  OF   MY -LIFE. 

serve,  even  later  in  life,  prevented  her  showing  her 
deepest  grief  to  others.  She  always  strove  to  cope 
with  her  sorest  trials  alone.  Her  sunny  nature 
shrank  from  diffusing  shadow  and  darkness  around 
her. 

On  the  i4th  of  February,  the  anniversary  of  my 
father's  death,  wherever  she  might  be,  she  always 
withdrew  from  the  members  of  the  household,  and 
even  her  own  children.  A  second  occasion  of  shar- 
ing her  sorrowful  emotion  was  repeated  several 
times  every  summer.  This  was  the  visit  to  the  ceme- 
tery, which  she  rarely  made  alone. 

The  visits  impressed  us  all  strongly,  and  the 
one  I  first  remember  could  not  have  occurred  later 
than  my  fifth  year,  for  I  distinctly  recollect  that 
Frau  Rapp's  horses  took  us  to  the  churchyard.  My 
father  was  buried  in  the  Dreifaltigkeitskirchhof,* 
just  outside  the  Halle  Gate.  I  found  it  so  little 
changed  when  I  entered  it  again,  two  years  ago, 
that  I  could  walk  without  a  guide  directly  to  the 
Ebers  family  vault.  But  what  a  transformation 
had  taken  place  in  the  way  ! 

When  we  visited  it  with  my  mother,  which  was 
always  in  carriages,  for  it  was  a  long  distance  from 
our  home,  we  drove  quickly  through  the  city,  the 
gate,  and  as  far  as  the  spot  where  I  found  the  state- 
ly pile  of  the  brick  Kreuzkirche  ;  then  we  turned 

*  Trinity  churchyard. 


MY   EARLIEST   CHILDHOOD.  23 

to  the  right,  and  if  we  had  come  in  cabs  we  chil- 
dren got  out,  it  was  so  hard  for  the  horses  to  drag 
the  vehicles  over  the  sandy  road  which  led  to  the 
cemetery. 

During  this  walk  we  gathered  blue  cornflowers 
and  scarlet  poppies  from  the  fields,  bluebells,  dai- 
sies, ranunculus,  and  snapdragon  from  the  narrow 
border  of  turf  along  the  roadside,  and  tied  them 
into  bouquets  for  the  graves.  My  mother  moved 
silently  with  us  between  the  rows  of  grassy  mounds, 
tombstones,  and  crosses,  while  we  carried  the  pots 
of  flowers  and  wreaths,  which,  to  afford  every  one 
the  pleasure  of  helping,  she  had  distributed  among 
us  at  the  gravedigger's  house,  just  back  of  the 
cemetery. 

Our  family  burial  place — my  mother's  stone 
cross  now  stands  there  beside  my  father's — was 
one  of  those  bounded  in  the  rear  by  the  church- 
yard wall ;  a  marble  slab  set  in  the  masonry  bears 
the  owner's  name.  It  is  large  enough  for  us  all, 
and  lies  at  the  right  of  the  path  between  Count 
Kalckreuth's  and  the  stately  mausoleum  which 
contains  the  earthly  remains  of  Moritz  von  Oppen- 
feld — who  was  by  far  the  dearest  of  our  father's 
relatives — and  his  family. 

My  mother  led  the  way  into  the  small  enclos- 
ure, which  was  surrounded  by  an  iron  railing,  and 
prayed    or  thought  silently  of  the  beloved  dead 
who  rested  there. 
3 


24  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

Is  there  any  way  for  us  Protestants,  when  love 
for  the  dead  longs  to  find  expression  in  action,  ex- 
cept to  adorn  with  flowers  the  places  which  con- 
tain their  earthly  remains  ?  Their  bright  hues  and 
a  child's  beaming  face  are  the  only  cheerful  things 
which  a  mourner  whose  wounds  are  still  bleeding 
freshly  beside  a  coffin  can  endure  to  see,  and  I 
might  compare  flowers  to  the  sound  of  bells.  Both 
are  in  place  and  welcome  in  the  supreme  moments 
of  life. 

Therefore  my  mother,  besides  a  heart  full  of 
love,  always  brought  to  my  father's  grave  chil- 
dren and  flowers.  When  she  had  satisfied  the  needs 
of  her  own  soul,  she  turned  to  us,  and  with  cheerful 
composure  directed  the  decoration  of  the  mound. 
Then  she  spoke  of  our  father,  and  if  any  of  us 
had  recently  incurred  punishment — one  instance 
of  this  kind  is  indelibly  impressed  on  my  memory 
— she  passed  her  arms  around  the  child,  and  in 
whispered  words,  which  no  one  else  could  hear,  en- 
treated the  son  or  daughter  not  to  grieve  her  so 
again,  but  to  remember  the  dead.  Such  an  admo- 
nition on  this  spot  could  not  fail  to  produce  its 
effect,  and  brought  forgiveness  with  it. 

On  our  return  our  hands  and  hearts  were  free 
again,  and  we  were  at  liberty  to  use  our  tongues. 
During  these  visits  my  interest  in  Schleiermacher 
was  awakened,  for  his  grave — he  died  in  1834, 
three  years  before  I  was  born — lay  near  our  lot, 


MY   EARLIEST   CHILDHOOD.  25 

and  we  often  stopped  before  the  stone  erected  by 
his  friends,  grateful  pupils,  and  admirers.  It  was 
adorned  with  his  likeness  in  marble ;  and  my  moth- 
er, who  had  frequently  met  him,  pausing  in  front 
of  it,  told  us  about  the  keen-sighted  theologian, 
philosopher,  and  pulpit  orator,  whose  teachings,  as 
I  was  to  learn  later,  had  exerted  the  most  powerful 
influence  upon  my  principal  instructors  at  Keilhau. 
She  also  knew  his  best  enigmas ;  and  the  following 
one,  whose  terse  brevity  is  unsurpassed — 

"  Parted  I  am  sacred, 
United  abominable  " — 

she  had  heard  him  propound  himself.  The  answer, 
"  Mein  eid  "  (my  oath),  and  "  Meineid  "  (perjury), 
every  one  knows. 

Nothing  was  further  from  my  mother's  intention 
than  to  make  these  visits  to  the  cemetery  special 
memorial  days ;  on  the  contrary,  they  were  inter- 
woven into  our  lives,  not  set  at  regular  intervals 
or  on  certain  dates,  but  when  her  heart  prompted 
and  the  weather  was  favourable  for  out-of-door  ex- 
cursions. Therefore  they  became  associated  in 
our  minds  with  happy  and  sacred  memories. 


26  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

CHAPTER   III. 

ON    FESTAL   DAYS. 

THE  celebration  of  a  memorial  day  by  outward 
forms  was  one  of  my  mother's  customs ;  for,  spite 
of  her  sincerity  of  feeling,  she  favoured  external 
ceremonies,  and  tried  when  we  were  very  young  to 
awaken  a  sense  of  their  meaning  in  our  minds. 

On  all  festal  occasions  we  children  were  freshly 
dressed  from  top  to  toe,  and  all  of  us,  including  the 
servants,  had  cakes  at  breakfast,  and  the  older  ones 
wine  at  dinner. 

On  the  birthdays  these  cakes  were  surrounded 
by  as  many  candles  as  we  numbered  years,  and  pro- 
vision was  always  made  for  a  dainty  arrangement 
of  gifts.  While  we  were  young,  my  mother  distin- 
guished the  "  birthday  child  " — probably  in  accord- 
ance with  some  custom  of  her  native  country — by 
a  silk  scarf.  She  liked  to  celebrate  her  own  birth- 
day, too,  and  ever  since  I  can  remember — it  was  on 
the  25th  of  July — we  had  a  picnic  at  that  time. 

We  knew  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  her  to  see  us 
at  her  table  on  that  day,  and,  up  to  the  last  years 
of  her  life,  all  whose  vocations  permitted  met  at 
her  house  on  the  anniversary. 

She  went  to  church  on  Sunday,  and  on  Good 
Friday  she  insisted  that  my  sisters  as  well  as  her- 


ON    FESTAL   DAYS.  2/ 

self  should  wear  black,  not  only  during  the  service, 
but  throughout  the  rest  of  the  day. 

Few  children  enjoyed  a  more  beautiful  Christ- 
mas than  ours,  for  under  the  tree  adorned  with 
special  love  each  found  the  desire  of  his  or  her 
heart  gratified,  while  behind  the  family  gift-table 
there  always  stood  another,  on  which  several  poor- 
er people  whom  I  might  call  "  clients  "  of  the  house- 
hold, discovered  presents  which  suited  their  needs. 
Among  them,  up  to  the  time  I  went  as  a  boy  of 
eleven  to  Keilhau,  I  never  failed  to  see  my  oldest 
sister's  nurse  with  her  worthy  husband,  the  shoe- 
maker Grossman,  and  their  well-behaved  children. 
She  gladly  permitted  us  to  share  in  the  distribu- 
tion of  the  alms  liberally  bestowed  on  the  needy. 
The  seeming  paradox,  "  No  one  ever  grew  poor  by 
giving,"  I  first  heard  from  her  lips,  and  she  more 
than  once  found  an  opportunity  to  repeat  it. 

We,  however,  never  valued  her  gifts  of  money 
so  highly  as  the  trouble  and  inconveniences  she 
cheerfully  encountered  to  aid  or  add  to  the  happi- 
ness of  others  by  means  of  the  numerous  relations 
formed  in  her  social  life  and  the  influence  gained 
mainly  by  her  own  gracious  nature.  Many  who 
are  now  occupying  influential  positions  owe  their 
first  start  or  have  had  the  path  smoothed  for  them 
by  her  kindness. 

As  in  many  Berlin  families,  the  Christmas  Man 
came  to  us — an  old  man  disguised  by  a  big  beard 


28  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

and  provided  with  a  bag  filled  with  nuts  and  bon- 
bons and  sometimes  trifling  gifts.  He  addressed 
us  in  a  feigned  voice,  saying  that  the  Christ  Child 
had  sent  him,  but  the  dainties  he  had  were  intended 
only  for  the  good  children  who  could  recite  some- 
thing for  him.  Of  course,  provision  for  doing  this 
had  been  made.  Everybody  pressed  forward,  but 
the  Christmas  Man  kept  order,  and  only  when  each 
had  repeated  a  little  verse  did  he  open  the  bag  and 
distribute  its  contents  among  us. 

Usually  the  Christmas  Man  brought  a  compan- 
ion, who  followed  him  in  the  guise  of  Knecht  Ru- 
precht  with  his  own  bag  of  presents,  and  mingled 
with  his  jests  threats  against  naughty  children. 

The  carp  served  on  Christmas  eve  in  every 
Berlin  family,  after  the  distribution  of  gifts,  and 
which  were  never  absent  from  my  mother's  table,  I 
have  always  had  on  my  own  in  Jena,  Leipsic,  and 
Munich,  or  wherever  the  evening  of  December  24th 
might  find  us.  On  the  whole,  we  remain  faithful 
to  the  Christmas  customs  of  my  own  home,  which 
vary  little  from  those  of  the  Germans  in  Riga, 
where  my  wife's  family  belong;  nay,  it  is  so  hard 
for  me  to  relinquish  such  childish  habits,  that,  when 
unable  to  procure  a  Christmas  tree  for  the  two 
"  Eves "  I  spent  on  the  Nile,  I  decked  a  young 
palm  and  fastened  candles  on  it.  My  mother's 
permission  that  Knecht  Ruprecht  should  visit  us 
was  contrary  to  her  principle  never  to  allow  us  to 


ON   FESTAL   DAYS. 


29 


be  frightened  by  images  of  horror.  Nay,  if  she 
heard  that  the  servants  threatened  us  with  the 
Black  Man  and  other  hobgoblins  of  Berlin  nursery 
tales,  she  was  always  very  angry.  The  arguments 
by  which  my  wife  induced  me  to  banish  the  Christ- 
mas Man  and  Knecht  Ruprecht  seem  still  more 
cogent,  now  that  I  think  I  understand  the  hearts 
of  children.  It  is  certainly  far  more  beautiful  and 
just  as  easy — if  we  desire  to  utilize  Christmas  gifts 
for  educational  purposes — to  stimulate  children  to 
goodness  by  telling  them  of  the  pleasure  it  will 
give  the  little  Christ  Child,  rather  than  by  filling 
them  with  dread  of  Knecht  Ruprecht. 

True,  my  mother  did  not  fail  to  endeavor  to  in- 
spire us  with  love  for  the  Christ  Child  and  the 
Saviour,  and  to  draw  us  near  to  him.  She  saw  in 
him,  above  all  else,  the  embodiment  of  love,  and 
loved  him  because  her  loving  heart  understood  his. 

In  after  years  my  own  investigation  and  thought 
brought  me  to  the  same  conviction  which  she  had 
reached  through  the  relation  of  her  feminine  nature 
to  the  person  and  teachings  of  her  Saviour.  I  per- 
ceived that  the  world  as  Jesus  Christ  found  it  owes 
him  nothing  grander,  more  beautiful,  loftier,  .or 
more  pregnant  with  importance  than  that  he 
widened  the  circle  of  love  which  embraced  only  the 
individual,  the  family,  the  city,  or,  at  the  utmost, 
the  country  of  which  a  person  was  a  citizen,  till  it 
included  all  mankind,  and  this  human  love,  of  which 


3Q  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

my  mother's  life  gave  us  practical  proof,  is  the 
banner  under  which  all  the  genuine  progress  of 
mankind  in  later  years  has  been  made. 

Nineteen  centuries  have  passed  since  the  one 
that  gave  us  Him  who  died  on  the  cross,  and  how 
far  we  are  still  from  a  perfect  realization  of  this 
noblest  of  all  the  emotions  of  the  heart  and  spirit ! 
And  yet,  on  the  day  when  this  human  love  has  full 
sway,  the  social  problems  which  now  disturb  so 
many  minds  and  will  permit  the  brains  of  our  best 
citizens  to  take  no  rest,  will  be  solved. 

Other  Obligations  to  my  Mother,  and  a  Summary  of 
the  New  and  Great  Events  which  befell  the  Ger- 
mans during  my  Life. 

I  omit  saying  more  of  my  mother's  religious 
feelings  and  relations  to  God,  because  I  know  that 
it  would  be  contrary  to  her  wishes  to  inform  stran- 
gers of  the  glimpse  she  afterward  afforded  me  of 
the  inmost  depths  of  her  soul. 

That,  like  every  other  mother,  she  clasped  our 
little  hands  in  prayer  is  a  matter  of  course.  I  could 
not  fall  asleep  until  she  had  done  this  and  given 
me  my  good-night  kiss.  How  often  I  have  dreamed 
of  her  when,  before  going  to  some  entertainment, 
she  came  in  full  evening  dress  to  hear  me  repeat 
my  little  prayer  and  bid  us  good-bye  ! 

But  she  also  provided  most  carefully  for  the 
outward  life;  nay,  perhaps  she  laid  a  little  too 


ON   FESTAL   DAYS.  3! 

much  stress  upon  our  manners  in  greeting  stran- 
gers, at  table,  and  elsewhere. 

Among  these  forms  I  might  number  the  fluent 
use  of  the  French  language,  which  my  mother  early 
bestowed  upon  us  as  if  its  acquisition  was  mere 
sport — bestowed  ;  for,  unhappily,  I  know  of  no  Ger- 
man grammar  school  where  pupils  can  learn  to 
speak  French  with  facility ;  and  how  many  never- 
to-be-forgotten  memories  of  travel,  what  great 
benefits  during  my  period  of  study  in  Paris  I  owe 
to  this  capacity !  We  obtained  it  by  the  help  of 
bonnes,  who  found  it  easier  to  speak  French  to  us 
because  our  mother  always  did  the  same  in  their 
presence. 

My  mother  considered  it  of  the  first  importance 
to  make  us  familiar  with  French  at  a  very  early 
age,  because,  when  she  reached  Berlin  with  a  scan- 
ty knowledge  of  German,  her  mastery  of  French 
secured  numerous  pleasant  things.  She  often  told 
us  how  highly  French  was  valued  in  the  capital,  and 
we  must  believe  that  the  language  possesses  an  im- 
perishable charm  for  Germans  when  we  remember 
that  this  was  the  case  so  shortly  after  the  glorious 
uprising  against  the  terrible  despotism  of  France. 
True,  French,  in  addition  to  its  melody  and  ambigu- 
ity, possesses  more  subtle  turns  and  apt  phrases 
than  most  other  languages ;  and  even  the  most  Ger- 
man of  Germans,  our  Bismarck,  must  recognize 
the  fitness  of  its  phrases,  because  he  likes  to  avail 


32  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

himself  of  them.  He  has  a  perfect  knowledge  of 
French,  and  I  have  noticed  that,  whenever  he 
mingles  it  with  German,  the  former  has  some  sen- 
tence which  enables  him  to  communicate  in  better 
and  briefer  language  whatever  he  may  desire  to  ex- 
press. What  German  form  of  speech,  for  instance, 
can  convey  the  idea  of  fulness  which  will  permit 
no  addition  so  well  as  the  French  popular  saying, 
"  Full  as  an  egg,"  which  pleased  me  in  its  native 
land,  and  which  first  greeted  me  in  Germany  as  an 
expression  used  by  the  great  chancellor  ? 

My  mother's  solicitude  concerning  good  man- 
ners and  perfection  in  speaking  French,  which  so 
easily  renders  children  mere  dolls,  fortunately  could 
not  deprive  us  of  our  natural  freshness  and  freedom 
from  constraint.  But  if  any  peril  to  the  character 
does  lurk  in  being  unduly  mindful  of  external  forms, 
we  three  brothers  were  destined  to  spend  a  large 
portion  of  our  boyhood  amid  surroundings  which, 
as  it  were,  led  us  back  to  Nature.  Besides,  even 
in  Berlin  we  were  not  forbidden  to  play  like  genu- 
ine boys.  We  had  no  lack  of  playmates  of  both 
sexes,  and  with  them  we  certainly  talked  and 
shouted  no  French,  but  sturdy  Berlin  German. 

In  winter,  too,  we  were  permitted  to  enjoy  our- 
selves out  of  doors,  and  few  boys  made  handsomer 
snow-men  than  those  our  worthy  Kiirschner — al- 
ways with  the  order  in  his  buttonhole — helped  us 
build  in  Thiergartenstrasse. 


ON   FESTAL  DAYS. 


33 


In  the  house  we  were  obliged  to  behave  cour- 
teously, and  when  I  recall  the  appearance  of  things 
there  I  become  vividly  aware  that  no  series  of  years 
witnessed  more  decisive  changes  in  every  depart- 
ment of  life  in  Germany  than  those  of  my  boyhood. 

The  furnishing  of  the  rooms  differed  little  from 
that  of  the  present  day,  except  that  the  chairs  and 
tables  were  somewhat  more  angular  and  the  cush- 
ions less  comfortable.  Instead  o-f  the  little  knobs 
of  the  electric  bells,  a  so-called  "  bell-rope,"  about 
the  width  of  one's  hand,  provided  with  a  brass  or 
metal  handle,  hung  beside  the  doors. 

The  first  introduction  of  gas  into  the  city  was 
made  by  an  English  company  about  ten  years  be- 
fore my  birth;  but  how  many  oil  lamps  I  still  saw 
burning,  and  in  my  school  days  the  manufacturing 
city  of  Kottbus,  which  at  that  time  contained  about 
ten  thousand  inhabitants,  was  lighted  by  them  !  In 
my  childhood  gas  was  not  used  in  the  houses  and 
theatres  of  Berlin,  and  kerosene  had  not  found  its 
way  to  Germany.  The  rooms  were  lighted  by  oil 
lamps  and  candles,  while  the  servants  burned  tal- 
low-dips. The  latter  were  also  used  in  our  nursery, 
and  during  the  years  which  I  spent  at  school  in 
Keilhau  all  our  studying  was  done  by  them. 

Matches  were  not  known.  I  still  remember  the 
tinder  box  in  the  kitchen,  the  steel,  the  flint,  and 
the  threads  dipped  in  sulphur.  The  sparks  made 
by  striking  fell  on  the  tinder  and  caught  it  on  fire 


34 


THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 


here  and  there.  Soon  after  the  long,  rough  lucifer 
matches  appeared,  which  were  dipped  into  a  little 
bottle  filled,  I  believe,  with  asbestos  wet  with  sul- 
phuric acid. 

We  never  saw  the  gardener  light  his  pipe  except 
with  flint,  steel,  and  tinder.  The  gun  he  used  had 
a  firelock,  and  when  he  had  put  first  powder,  then 
a  wad,  then  shot,  and  lastly  another  wad  into  the 
barrel,  he  was  obliged  to  shake  some  powder  into 
the  pan,  which  was  lighted  by  the  sparks  from  the 
flint  striking  the  steel,  if  the  rain  did  not  make  it 
too  damp. 

For  writing  we  used  exclusively  goose-quills, 
for  though  steel  pens  were  invented  soon  after  I 
was  born,  they  were  probably  very  imperfect ;  and, 
moreover,  had  to  combat  a  violent  prejudice,  for 
at  the  first  school  we  attended  we  were  strictly  for- 
bidden to  use  them.  So  the  penknife  played  an 
important  part  on  every  writing-desk,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  imagine  a  good  penman  who  did  not 
possess  skill  in  the  art  of  shaping  the  quills. 

What  has  been  accomplished  between  1837  and 
the  present  date  in  the  way  of  means  of  communi- 
cation I  need  not  recapitulate.  I  only  know  how 
long  a  time  was  required  for  a  letter  from  my 
mother's  brothers — one  was  a  resident  of  Java  and 
the  other  lived  as  "  Opperhoofd  "  in  Japan — to 
reach  Berlin,  and  how  often  an  opportunity  was 
used,  generally  through  the  courtesy  of  the  Neth- 


ON   FESTAL   DAYS. 


35 


erland  embassy,  for  sending  letters  or  little  gifts 
to  Holland.  A  letter  forwarded  by  express  was  the 
swiftest  way  of  receiving  or  giving  news;  but  there 
was  the  signal  telegraph,  whose  arms  we  often  saw 
moving  up  and  down,  but  exclusively  in  the  service 
of  the  Government.  When,  a  few  years  ago,  my 
mother  was  ill  in  Holland,  a  reply  to  a  telegram 
marked  "  urgent "  was  received  in  Leipsic  in  eight- 
een minutes.  What  would  our  grandparents  have 
said  to  such  a  miracle  ? 

We  were  soon  to  learn  by  experience  the  num- 
ber of  days  required  to  reach  my  mother's  home 
from  Berlin,  for  there  was  then  no  railroad  to  Hol- 
land. 

The  remarkable  changes  wrought  during  my 
lifetime  in  the  political  affairs  of  Germany  I  can 
merely  indicate  here.  I  was  born  in  despotic  Prus- 
sia, which  was  united  to  Austria  and  the  German 
states  and  small  countries  by  a  loosely  formed 
league.  As  guardians  of  this  wretched  unity  the 
various  courts  sent  diplomats  to  Frankfort,  who 
interrupted  their  careless  mode  of  life  only  to 
sharpen  distrust  of  other  courts  or  suppress  some 
democratic  movement. 

The  Prussian  nation  first  obtained  in  1848  the 
liberties  which  had  been  secured  at  an  earlier  date 
by  the  other  German  states,  and  nothing  gives  me 
more  cause  for  gratitude  than  the  boon  of  being 
permitted  to  see  the  realization  and  fulfilment  of 


36  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

the  dream  of  so  many  former  generations,  and  my 
dismembered  native  land  united  into  one  grand, 
beautiful  whole.  I  deem  it  a  great  happiness  to 
have  been  a  contemporary  of  Emperor  William  I, 
Bismarck,  and  Von  Moltke,  witnessed  their  great 
deeds  as  a  man  of  mature  years,  and  shared  the 
enthusiasm  they  evoked  and  which  enabled  these 
men  to  make  our  German  Fatherland  the  powerful, 
united  empire  it  is  to-day. 

The  journey  to  Holland  closes  the  first  part  of 
my  childhood.  (  I  look  back  upon  it  as  a  beautiful, 
unshadowed  dream  out  of  doors  or  in  a  pleasant 
house  where  everybody  loved  me.  But  I  could  not 
single  out  the  years,  months,  or  days  of  this  retro- 
spect. It  is  only  a  smooth  stream  which  bears  us 
easily  along.  There  is  no  series  of  events,  only 
disconnected  images — a  faithful  dog,  a  picture  on 
the  wall,  above  all  the  love  and  caresses  of  the 
mother  lavished  specially  on  me  as  the  youngest, 
and  the  most  blissful  of  all  sounds  in  the  life  of  a 
German  child,  the  ringing  of  the  little  bell  an- 
nouncing that  the  Christmas  tree  is  ready. 

Only  in  after  days,  when  the  world  of  fairy- 
land and  legend  is  left  behind,  does  the  child  have 
any  idea  of  consecutive  events  and  human  desti- 
nies. The  stories  told  by  mother  and  grandmother 
about  Snow-White,  the  Sleeping  Beauty,  the  giants 
and  the  dwarfs,  Cinderella,  the  stable  at  Bethlehem 
where  the  Christ-Child  lay  in  the  manger  beside  the 


JOURNEY  TO   HOLLAND.  37 

oxen  and  asses,  the  angels  who  appeared  to  the 
shepherds  singing  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  Highest," 
the  three  kings  and  the  star  which  led  them  to  the 
Christ-Child,  are  firmly  impressed  on  his  memory. 
I  don't  know  how  young  I  was  when  I  saw  the  first 
picture  of  the  kings  in  their  purple  robes  kneeling 
before  the  babe  in  its  mother's  lap,  but  its  forms 
and  hues  were  indelibly  stamped  upon  my  mental 
vision,  and  I  never  forgot  its  meaning.  True,  I  had 
no  special  thoughts  concerning  it ;  nay,  I  scarcely 
wondered  to  see  kings  in  the  dust  before  a  child, 
and  now,  when  I  hear  the  summons  of  the  purest 
and  noblest  of  Beings,  "  Suffer  little  children  to 
come  unto  me,"  and  understand  the  sacred  sim- 
plicity of  a  child's  heart,  it  no  longer  awakens 
surprise. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  JOURNEY  TO  HOLLAND  TO  ATTEND  THE 
GOLDEN  WEDDING. 

THE  rattle  of  wheels  and  the  blast  of  the  postil- 
ion's horn  closed  the  first  period  of  my  childhood. 
When  I  was  four  years  old  we  went  to  my  mother's 
home  to  attend  my  grandparents'  golden  wedding. 

If  I  wished  to  describe  the  journey  in  its  regu- 
lar order  I  should  be  forced  to  depend  upon  the 
statements  of  others.  So  little  of  all  which  grown 


38  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

people  deem  worth  seeing  and  noting  in  Belgium, 
Holland,  and  on  the  Rhine  has  remained  in  my 
memory,  that  I  cannot  help  smiling  when  I  hear 
people  say  that  they  intend  to  take  children  trav- 
elling for  their  amusement  and  instruction.  In  our 
case  we  were  put  in  the  carriage  because  my 
mother  would  not  leave  us  behind,  and  wanted  to 
give  our  grandparents  pleasure  by  our  presence. 
She  was  right,  but  in  spite  of  my  inborn  love  of 
travel  the  month  we  spent  on  the  journey  seemed 
a  period  of  very  uncomfortable  restlessness.  A 
child  realizes  only  a  single  detail  of  beauty — a 
flower,  a  radiant  star,  a  human  face.  My  individ- 
ual recollection  of  the  journey  to  Holland,  aside 
from  what  has  been  told  me,  is  getting  into  the 
travelling  carriage,  a  little  green  leather  Bajazzo 
dressed  in  red  and  white  given  to  me  by  a  rela- 
tive, and  the  box  of  candies  bestowed  to  take  on 
the  trip  by  a  friend  of  my  mother. 

Of  our  reception  in  the  Belgian  capital  at  the 
house  of  Adolphe  Jones,  the  husband  of  my  aunt 
Henriette,  a  sister  of  my  mother,  I  retain  many  rec- 
ollections. 

Our  pleasant  host  was  a  painter  of  animals, 
whom  I  afterward  saw  sharing  his  friend  Verboeck- 
hoven's  studio,  and  whose  flocks  of  sheep  were 
very  highly  praised.  At  that  time  his  studio  was 
in  his  own  house,  and  it  seems  as  if  I  could  still 
hear  the  call  in  my  aunt's  shrill  voice,  repeated 


JOURNEY   TO   HOLLAND.  39 

countless  times  a  day,  "  Adolphe ! "  and  the  an- 
swer, following  promptly  in  the  deepest  bass  tones, 
"  Henriette !  "  This  singular  freak,  which  greatly 
amused  us,  was  due,  as  I  learned  afterward,  to  my 
aunt's  jealousy,  which  almost  bordered  on  in- 
sanity. 

In  later  years  I  learned  to  know  him  as  a  jo- 
vial artist,  who  in  the  days  of  his  youth  very 
possibly  might  have  given  the  strait-laced  lady 
cause  for  anxiety.  Even  when  his  locks  were 
white  he  was  ready  for  any  pleasure ;  but  he  de- 
voted himself  earnestly  to  art,  and  I  am  under  ob- 
ligation to  him  for  being  the  means  of  my  mother's 
possessing  the  friendship  of  the  animal  painter, 
Verboeckhoven,  and  that  greatest  of  more  modern 
Belgian  artists,  Louis  Gallait  and  his  family,  in 
whose  society  and  home  I  have  passed  many  de- 
lightful hours. 

In  recalling  our  arrival  at  the  Jones  house  I 
first  see  the  merry,  smiling  face — somewhat  faun- 
like  in  its  expression — of  my  six-foot  uncle,  and 
the  plump  figure  of  his  wonderfully  good  and — 
when  undisturbed  by  jealousy  —  no  less  cheery 
wife.  There  was  something  specially  winning  and 
lovable  about  her,  and  I  have  heard  that  this  lady, 
my  mother's  oldest  sister,  possessed  in  her  youth 
the  same  dazzling  beauty.  At  the  famous  ball 
in  Brussels  this  so  captivated  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington that  he  offered  her  his  arm  to  escort  her 

4 


40  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

back  to  her  seat.  My  mother  also  remembered 
the  Napoleonic  days,  and  I  thought  she  had  been 
specially  favoured  in  seeing  this  great  man  when 
he  entered  Rotterdam,  and  also  Goethe. 

I  remember  my  grandfather  as  a  stately  old 
gentleman.  He,  as  well  as  the  other  members  of 
the  family,  called  me  Georg  Krullebol,  which 
means  curly-head,  to  distinguish  me  from  a  cousin 
called  Georg  von  Gent.  I  also  remember  that 
when,  on  the  morning  of  December  5th,  St.  Nicho- 
olas  day,  we  children  took  our  shoes  to  put  on,  we 
found  them,  to  our  delight,  stuffed  with  gifts ;  and 
lastly  that  on  Christmas  Eve  the  tree  which  had 
been  prepared  for  us  in  a  room  on  the  ground 
floor  attracted  such  a  crowd  of  curious  spectators 
in  front  of  the  Jones  house  that  we  were  obliged 
to  close  the  shutters.  Of  my  grandparents'  day  of 
honor  I  remember  nothing  except  a  large  room 
filled  with  people,  and  the  minutes  during  which 
I  repeated  my  little  verse.  I  can  still  see  myself 
in  a  short  pink  skirt,  with  a  wreath  of  roses  on  my 
fair  curls,  wings  on  my  shoulders,  a  quiver  on  my 
back,  and  a  bow  in  my  hand,  standing  before  the 
mirror  very  much  pleased  with  my  appearance. 
Our  governess  had  composed  little  Cupid's  speech, 
my  mother  had  drilled  me  thoroughly  in  it,  so  I  do 
not  remember  a  moment  of  anxiety  and  embarrass- 
ment, but  merely  that  it  afforded  me  the  purest, 
deepest  pleasure  to  be  permitted  to  do  something. 


JOURNEY   TO   HOLLAND.  41 

I  must  have  behaved  with  the  utmost  ease  before 
the  spectators,  many  of  whom  I  knew,  for  I  can  still 
hear  the  loud  applause  which  greeted  me,  and  see 
myself  passed  from  one  to  another  till  I  fled  from 
the  kisses  and  pet  names  of  grandparents,  aunts, 
and  cousins  to  my  mother's  lap.  Of  the  bride  and 
groom  of  this  golden  wedding  I  remember  only 
that  my  grandfather  wore  short  trousers  called 
escarpins  and  stockings  reaching  to  the  knee.  My 
grandmother,  spite  of  her  sixty-six  years — she  mar- 
ried before  she  was  seventeen — was  said  to  look 
remarkably  pretty.  Later  I  often  saw  the  heavy 
white  silk  dress  strewn  with  tiny  bouquets  which 
she  wore  as  a  bride  and  again  remodelled  at  her 
silver  wedding;  for  after  her  death  it  was  left  to 
my  mother.  Modern  wedding  gowns  are  not  treas- 
ured so  long.  I  have  often  wondered  why  I  recol- 
lect my  grandfather  so  distinctly  and  my  grand- 
mother so  dimly.  I  have  a  clear  idea  of  her  per- 
sonal appearance,  but  this  I  believe  I  owe  much 
more  to  her  portrait  which  hung  in  my  mother's 
room  beside  her  husband's,  and  is  now  one  of  my 
own  most  cherished  possessions.  Bradley,  one  of 
the  best  English  portrait  painters,  executed  it,  and 
all  connoisseurs  pronounce  it  a  masterpiece. 

This  festival  lives  in  my  memory  like  the  fresh 
spring  morning  of  a  day  whose  noon  is  darkened 
by  clouds,  and  which  ends  in  a  heavy  thunder- 
storm. 


42  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

Black  clouds  had  gathered  over  the  house 
adorned  with  garlands  and  flowers,  echoing  for 
days  with  the  gay  conversations,  jests,  and  con- 
gratulations of  the  relatives  united  after  long 
separation  and  the  mirth  of  children  and  grand- 
children. Not  a  loud  word  was  permitted  to  be 
uttered.  We  felt  that  something  terrible  was  im- 
pending, and  people  called  it  grandfather's  illness. 
Never  had  I  seen  my  mother's  sunny  face  so 
anxious  and  sad.  She  rarely  came  to  us,  and 
when  she  did  for  a  short  time  her  thoughts  were 
far  away,  for  she  was  nursing  her  father. 

Then  the  day  which  had  been  dreaded  came. 
Wherever  we  looked  the  women  were  weeping  and 
the  eyes  of  the  men  were  reddened  by  tears.  My 
mother,  pale  and  sorrowful,  told  us  that  our  dear 
grandfather  was  dead. 

Children  cannot  understand  the  terrible  solem- 
nity of  death.  This  is  a  gift  bestowed  by  their 
guardian  angels,  that  no  gloomy  shadows  may 
darken  the  sunny  brightness  of  their  souls. 

I  saw  only  that  cheerful  faces  were  changed  to 
sad  ones,  that  the  figures  about  us  moved  silently 
in  sable  robes  and  scarcely  noticed  us.  On  the 
tables  in  the  nursery,  where  our  holiday  garments 
were  made,  black  clothes  were  being  cut  for  us 
also,  and  I  remember  having  my  mourning  dress 
fitted.  1  was  pleased  because  it  was  a  new  one.  1 
tried  to  manufacture  a  suit  for  my  Berlin  Jack-in- 


JOURNEY   TO   HOLLAND.  43 

the-box  from  the  scraps  that  fell  from  the  dress- 
maker's table.  Nothing  amuses  a  child  so  much 
as  to  imitate  what  older  people  are  doing.  We 
were  forbidden  to  laugh,  but  after  a  few  days  our 
mother  no  longer  checked  our  mirth.  Of  our  stay 
at  Scheveningen  I  recollect  nothing  except  that 
the  paths  in  the  little  garden  of  the  house  we  occu- 
pied were  strewn  with  shells.  We  dug  a  big  hole 
in  the  sand  on  the  downs,  but  I  retained  no  re- 
membrance of  the  sea  and  its  majesty,  and  when  I 
beheld  it  in  later  years  it  seemed  as  if  I  were 
greeting  for  the  first  time  the  eternal  Thalassa 
which  was  to  become  so  dear  and  familiar  to  me. 

My  grandmother,  I  learned,  passed  away  scarcely 
a  year  after  the  death  of  her  faithful  companion,  at 
the  home  of  her  son,  a  lawyer  in  The  Hague. 

Two  incidents  of  the  journey  back  are  vividly 
impressed  on  my  mind.  We  went  by  steamer  up 
the  Rhine,  and  stopped  at  Ehrenbreitstein  to  visit 
old  Frau  Mendelssohn,  our  guardian's  mother,  at 
her  estate  of  Horchheim.  The  carriage  had  been 
sent  for  us,  and  on  the  drive  the  spirited  horses 
ran  away  and  would  have  dashed  into  the  Rhine 
had  not  my  brother  Martin,  at  that  time  eleven 
years  old,  who  was  sitting  on  the  box  by  the  coach- 
man, saved  us. 

The  other  incident  is  of  a  less  serious  nature. 
I  had  seen  many  a  salmon  in  the  kitchen,  and  re- 
solved to  fish  for  one  from  the  steamer;  so  I  tied 


44 


THE   STORY  OF   MY    LIFE. 


a  bit  of  candy  to  a  string  and  dropped  it  from  the 
deck.  The  fish  were  so  wanting  in  taste  as  to  dis- 
dain the  sweet  bait,  but  my  early  awakened  love  of 
sport  kept  me  patiently  a  long  time  in  the  same 
spot,  which  was  undoubtedly  more  agreeable  to 
my  mother  than  the  bait  was  to  the  salmon.  As, 
protected  by  the  guards,  and  probably  watched  by 
the  governess  and  my  brothers  and  sisters,  I  de- 
voted myself  to  this  amusement,  my  mother  went 
down  into  the  cabin  to  rest.  Suddenly  there  was 
a  loud  uproar  on  the  ship.  People  shouted  and 
screamed,  everybody  rushed  on  deck  and  looked 
into  the  river.  Whether  I,  too,  heard  the  fall  and 
saw  the  life-boat  manned  I  don't  remember;  but  I 
recollect  all  the  more  clearly  my  mother's  rushing 
frantically  from  the  cabin  and  clasping  me  tenderly 
to  her  heart  as  her  rescued  child.  So  the  drama 
ended  happily,  but  there  had  been  a  terrible 
scene. 

Among  the  steamer's  passengers  was  a  crazy 
Englishman  who  was  being  taken,  under  the  charge 
of  a  keeper,  to  an  insane  asylum.  While  my  mother 
was  asleep  the  lunatic  succeeded  in  eluding  this 
man's  vigilance  and  plunged  into  the  river.  Of 
course,  there  was  a  tumult  on  board,  and  my 
mother  heard  cries  of  "  Fallen  into  the  river !  " 
"Save!"  "He'll  drown!"  Maternal  anxiety  in- 
stantly applied  them  to  the  child-angler,  and  she 
darted  up  the  cabin  stairs.  I  need  not  describe 


JOURNEY   TO    HOLLAND.  45 

the  state  of  mind  in  which  she  reached  the  deck, 
and  her  emotion  when  she  found  her  nestling  in 
his  place,  still  holding  the  line  in  his  hand. 

As  the  luckless  son  of  Albion  was  rescued  un- 
harmed, we  could  look  back  upon  the  incident 
gaily,  but  neither  of  us  forgot  this  anxiety — the 
first  I  was  to  cause  my  mother. 

I  have  forgotten  everything  else  that  happened 
on  our  way  home ;  but  when  I  think  of  this  first 
journey,  a  long  one  for  so  young  a  child,  and  the 
many  little  trips — usually  to  Dresden,  where  my 
grandmother  Ebers  lived — which  I  was  permitted 
to  take,  I  wonder  whether  they  inspired  the  love 
of  travel  which  moved  me  so  strongly  later,  or 
whether  it  was  an  inborn  instinct.  If  a  popular 
superstition  is  correct,  I  was  predestined  to  journey. 
No  less  a  personage  than  Friedrich  Froebel,  the 
founder  of  the  kindergarten  system,  called  my 
attention  to  it ;  for  when  I  met  him  for  the  first 
time  in  the  Institute  at  Keilhau,  he  seized  my  curly 
hair,  bent  my  head  back,  gazed  at  me  with  his  kind 
yet  penetrating  eyes,  and  said:  ''You  will  wander 
far  through  the  world,  my  boy  ;  your  teeth  are  wide 
apart." 


46  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

CHAPTER   V. 

LENN£STRASSE. — LENN£. — EARLY  IMPRESSIONS. 

LENN£STRASSE  is  the  scene  of  the  period  of 
my  life  which  began  with  my  return  from  Holland. 

If,  coming  from  the  Brandenburg  Gate,  you  fol- 
low the  Thiergarten  and  pass  the  superb  statue  of 
Goethe,  you  will  reach  a  corner  formed  by  two 
blocks  of  houses.  The  one  on  the  left,  opposite  to 
the  city  wall,  now  called  Koniggratz,  was  then 
known  as  Schulgartenstrasse.  The  other,  on  the 
right,  whose  windows  overlooked  the  Thiergarten, 
bore  the  name  in  my  childhood  of  Lenne"strasse, 
which  it  owed  to  Lenne\  the  park  superintendent, 
a  man  of  great  talent,  but  who  lives  in  my  memory 
only  as  a  particularly  jovial  old  gentleman.  He 
occupied  No.  i,  and  was  one  of  my  mother's 
friends.  Next  to  Prince  Piickler,  he  may  cer- 
tainly be  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  inventive 
and  tasteful  landscape  gardeners  of  his  time.  He 
transformed  the  gardens  of  Sans-Souci  and  the 
Pfaueninsel  at  Potsdam,  and  laid  out  the  magnifi- 
cent park  on  Babelsberg  for  Emperor  William  I, 
when  he  was  only  "  Prince  of  Prussia."  The  mag- 
nificent Zoological  Garden  in  Berlin  is  also  his 
work ;  but  he  prided  himself  most  on  rendering 
the  Thiergarten  a  "lung"  for  the  people,  and, 


EARLY   IMPRESSIONS. 


47 


spite  of  many  obstacles,  materially  enlarging  it. 
Every  moment  of  the  tireless  man's  time  was 
claimed,  and  besides  King  Frederick  William  IV, 
who  himself  uttered  many  a  tolerably  good  joke, 
found  much  pleasure  in  the  society  of  the  gay, 
clever  Rhinelander,  whom  he  often  summoned  to 
dine  with  him  at  Potsdam.  Lenn£  undoubtedly 
appreciated  this  honour,  yet  I  remember  the  doleful 
tone  in  which  he  sometimes  greeted  my  mother 
with,  "  Called  to  court  again  !  " 

Like  every  one  who  loves  Nature  and  flowers, 
he  was  fond  of  children.  We  called  him  "  Uncle 
Lenne,"  and  often  walked  down  our  street  hand  in 
hand  with  him. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  part  of  the  city  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Potsdam  Gate  was  called  the 
"  Geheimerath  -  Quarter."  Our  street,  it  is  true, 
lay  nearer  to  the  Brandenburg  Gate,  yet  it  really 
belonged  to  that  section ;  for  there  was  not  a 
single  house  without  at  least  one  Geheimerath 
(Privy  Councillor). 

Yet  this  superabundance  of  men  in  "secret"* 
positions  lent  no  touch  of  mystery  to  our  cheerful 
street,  shaded  by  the  green  of  the  forest.  Franker, 
gayer,  sometimes  noisier  children  than  its  residents 
could  not  be  found  in  Berlin.  I  was  only  a  little 
fellow  when  we  lived  there,  and  merely  tolerated 

*  Geheim  means  secret. 


48  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

in  the  "  big  boys' "  sports,  but  it  was  a  festival 
when,  with  Ludo,  I  could  carry  their  provisions  for 
them  or  even  help  them  make  fireworks.  The  old 
Rechnungsrath,  who  lived  in  the  house  owned  by 
Geheimerath  Crede",  the  father  of  my  Leipsic  col- 
league, was  their  instructor  in  this  art,  which  was 
to  prove  disastrous  to  my  oldest  brother  and 
bright  Paul  Seiffart  ;  for — may  they  pardon  me 
the  treachery ! — they  took  one  of  the  fireworks  to 
school,  where — I  hope  accidentally — it  went  off. 
At  first  this  caused  much  amusement,  but  strict 
judgment  followed,  and  led  to  my  mother's  resolu- 
tion to  send  her  oldest  son  away  from  home  to 
some  educational  institution. 

The  well-known  teacher,  Adolph  Diesterweg, 
whose  acquaintance  she  had  made  at  the  house  of 
a  friend,  recommended  Keilhau,  and  so  our  little 
band  was  deprived  of  the  leader  to  whom  Ludo 
and  I  had  looked  up  with  a  certain  degree  of  rever- 
ence on  account  of  his  superior  strength,  his  bold 
spirit  of  enterprise,  and  his  kindly  condescension  to 
us  younger  ones. 

After  his  departure  the  house  was  much  quieter, 
but  we  did  not  forget  him ;  his  letters  from  Keil- 
hau were  read  aloud  to  us,  and  his  descriptions  of 
the  merry  school  days,  the  pedestrian  tours,  and 
sleigh-rides  awakened  an  ardent  longing  in  Ludo 
and  myself  to  follow  him. 

Yet  it  was  so  delightful   with   my   mother,  the 


EARLY    IMPRESSIONS. 


49 


sun  around  which  our  little  lives  revolved !  I  had 
no  thought,  performed  no  act,  without  wondering 
what  would  be  her  opinion  of  it;  and  this  intimate 
relation,  though  in  an  altered  form,  continued  un- 
til her  death^  In  looking  backward  I  may  regard 
it  as  a  law  of  my  whole  development  that  my  con- 
duct was  regulated  according  to  the  more  or  less 
close  mental  and  outward  connection  in  which  I 
stood  with  her.  The  storm  and  stress  period, 
during  which  my  effervescent  youthful  spirits  led 
me  into  all  sorts  of  follies,  was  the  only  time  in  my 
life  in  which  this  close  connection  threatened  to  be 
loosened.  Yet  Fate  provided  that  it  should  soon 
be  welded  more  firmly  than  ever.  When  she  died, 
a  beloved  wife  stood  by  my  side,  but  she  was  part 
of  myself  ;  and  in  my  mother  Fate  seemed  to  have 
robbed  me  of  the  supreme  arbitrator,  the  high  court 
of  justice,  which  alone  could  judge  my  acts. 

In  Lennestrasse  it  was  still  she  who  waked  me, 
prepared  us  to  go  to  school,  took  us  to  walk,  and — 
how  could  I  ever  forget  it  ? — gathered  us  around  her 
"  when  the  lamps  were  lighted,"  to  read  aloud  or  tell 
us  some  story.  But  nobody  was  allowed  to  be  per- 
fectly idle.  While  my  sisters  sewed,  I  sketched  ; 
and,  as  Ludo  found  no  pleasure  in  that,  she  some- 
times had  him  cut  figures  out ;  sometimes — an  odd 
fancy — execute  a  masterpiece  of  crocheting,  which 
usually  shared  the  fate  of  Penelope's  web. 

We  listened  with  glowing  cheeks  to   Robinson 


50  THE   STORY   OF   MY    LIFE. 

Crusoe  and  the  Arabian  Nights,  Gulliver's  Travels 
and  Don  Quixote,  both  arranged  for  children,  the 
pretty  stories  of  Nieritz  and  others,  descriptions 
of  Nature  and  travel,  and  Grimm's  fairy  tales. 

On  other  winter  evenings  my  mother — this  will 
surprise  many  in  the  case  of  so  sensible  a  woman — 
took  us  to  the  theatre.  Two  of  our  relatives,  Frau 
Amalie  Beer  and  our  beloved  Moritz  von  Oppen- 
feld,  subscribed  for  boxes  in  the  opera-house,  and 
when  they  did  not  use  them,  which  often  happened, 
sent  us  the  key. 

So  as  a  boy  I  heard  most  of  the  operas  produced 
at  that  time,  and  I  saw  the  ballets,  of  which  Fred- 
erick William  IV  was  especially  fond,  and  which 
Taglioni  understood  how  to  arrange  so  admi- 
rably. 

Of  course,  to  us  children  the  comic  "  Robert  and 
Bertram,"  by  L,udwig  Schneider,  and  similar  plays, 
were  far  more  delightful  than  the  grand  operas; 
yet  even  now  I  wonder  that  Don  Giovanni's  scene 
with  the  statue  and  the  conspiracy  in  the  Hugue- 
nots stirred  me,  when  a  boy  of  nine  or  ten,  so 
deeply,  and  that,  though  possessing  barely  the 
average  amount  of  musical  talent,  Orpheus's  yearn- 
ing cry,  "  Eurydice !  "  rang  in  my  ears  so  long. 

That  these  frequently  repeated  pleasures  were 
harmful  to  us  children  I  willingly  admit.  And  yet 
— when  in  after  years  I  was  told  that  I  succeeded 
admirably  in  describing  large  bodies  of  men  seized 


EARLY  IMPRESSIONS.  51 

by  some  strong  excitement,  and  that  my  novels  did 
not  lack  dramatic  movement  or  their  scenes  vivid- 
ness, and,  where  it  was  requisite,  splendour — I  per- 
haps owe  this  to  the  superb  pictures,  interwoven 
with  thrilling  bursts  of  melody,  which  impressed 
themselves  upon  my  soul  when  a  child. 

Fortunately,  the  outdoor  life  at  Keilhau  coun- 
teracted the  perils  which  might  have  arisen  from 
attending  theatrical  performances  too  young.  What 
I  beheld  there,  in  field  and  forest,  enabled  me  in 
after  life,  when  I  desired  a  background  for  my 
stories,  not  to  paint  stage  scenes,  but  take  Nature 
herself  for  a  model. 

I  must  also  record  another  influence  which  had 
its  share  in  my  creative  toil — my  early  intercourse 
with  artists  and  the  opportunity  of  seeing  their 
work. 

The  statement  has  been  made  often  enough, 
but  I  should  like  to  repeat  it  here  from  my  own 
experience,  that  the  most  numerous  and  best  im- 
pulses which  urge  the  author  to  artistic  develop- 
ment come  from  his  childhood.  This  law,  which 
results  from  observing  the  life  and  works  of  the 
greatest  writers,  has  shown  itself  very  distinctly  in 
a  minor  one  like  myself. 

There  was  certainly  no  lack  of  varied  stimulus 
during  this  early  period  of  my  existence;  but  when 
I  look  back  upon  it,  I  become  vividly  aware  of  the 
serious  perils  which  threaten  not  only  the  external 


52  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

but  the  internal  development  of  the  children  who 
grow  up  in  large  cities. 

Careful  watching  can  guard  them  from  the 
transgressions  to  which  there  are  many  tempta- 
tions, but  not  from  the  strong  and  varying  impres- 
sions which  life  is  constantly  forcing  upon  them. 
They  are  thrust  too  early  from  the  paradise  of 
childhood  into  the  arena  of  life.  There  are  many 
things  to  be  seen  which  enrich  the  imagination,  but 
where  could  the  young  heart  find  the  calmness  it 
needs?  The  sighing  of  the  wind  sweeping  over 
the  cornfields  and  stirring  the  tree-tops  in  the  for- 
est, the  singing  of  the  birds  in  the  boughs,  the 
chirping  of  the  cricket,  the  vesper-bells  summon- 
ing the  world  to  rest,  all  the  voices  which,  in  the 
country,  invite  to  meditation  and  finally  to  the 
formation  of  a  world  of  one's  own,  are  silenced  by 
the  noise  of  the  capital.  So  it  happens  that  the 
latter  produces  active,  practical  men,  and,  under 
favorable  circumstances,  great  scholars,  but  few 
artists  and  poets.  If,  nevertheless,  the  capitals  are 
the  centers  where  the  poets,  artists,  sculptors,  and 
architects  of  the  country  gather,  there  is  a  good 
reason  for  it.  But  I  can  make  no  further  digres- 
sion. The  sapling  requires  different  soil  and  care 
from  the  tree.  I  am  grateful  to  my  mother  for 
removing  us  in  time  from  the  unrest  of  Berlin 
life. 


EARLY   IiMPRESSIONS.  53 

First  Studies. — My  Sisters  and  their  Friends. 

My  mother  told  me  I  was  never  really  taught 
to  read.  Ludo,  who  was  a  year  and  a  half  older, 
was  instructed  in  the  art.  I  sat  by  playing,  and 
one  day  took  up  Speckter's  Fables  and  read  a  few 
words.  Trial  was  then  made  of  my  capability,  and, 
finding  that  I  only  needed  practice  to  be  able  to 
read  things  I  did  not  know  already  by  heart,  my 
brother  and  I  were  thenceforth  taught  together. 

At  first- the  governess  had  charge  of  us,  after- 
ward we  were  sent  to  a  little  school  kept  by  Herr 
Liebe  in  the  neighbouring  Schulgarten  (now  Konig- 
gratz)  Strasse.  It  was  attended  almost  entirely  by 
children  belonging  to  the  circle  of  our  acquaint- 
ances, and  the  master  was  a  pleasant  little  man  of 
middle  age,  who  let  us  do  more  digging  in  his  gar- 
den and  playing  or  singing  than  actual  study. 

His  only  child,  a  pretty  little  girl  named  Clara, 
was  taught  with  us,  and  I  believe  I  have  Herr  Liebe 
to  thank  for  learning  to  write.  In  summer  he  took 
us  on  long  walks,  frequently  to  the  country  seat  of 
Herr  Korte,  who  stood  high  in  the  estimation  of 
farmers. 

From  such  excursions,  which  were  followed  by 
others  made  with  the  son  and  tutor  of  a  family 
among  our  circle  of  friends,  we  always  brought  our 
mother  great  bunches  of  flowers,  and  often  beauti- 
ful stories,  too  ;  for  the  tutor,  Candidate  Woltmann, 
was  an  excellent  story-teller,  and  I  early  felt  a  de- 


54  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

sire  to  share  with  those  whom  I  loved  whatever 
charmed  me. 

It  was  from  this  man,  who  was  as  fond  of  the 
beautiful  as  he  was  of  children,  that  I  first  heard 
the  names  of  the  Greek  heroes ;  and  I  remember 
that,  after  returning  from  one  of  these  walks,  I 
begged  my  mother  to  give  us  Schwab's  Tales  of 
Classic  Antiquity,  which  was  owned  by  one  of  our 
companions.  We  received  it  on  Ludo's  birthday, 
in  September,  and  how  we  listened  when  it  was 
read  to  us — how  often  we  ourselves  devoured  its 
delightful  contents ! 

I  think  the  story  of  the  Trojan  War  made  a 
deeper  impression  upon  me  than  even  the  Arabian 
Nights.  Homer's  heroes  seemed  like  giant  oaks, 
which  far  overtopped  the  little  trees  of  the  human 
wood.  They  towered  like  glorious  snow  mountains 
above  the  little  hills  with  which  my  childish  imag- 
ination was  already  filled  ;  and  how  often  we  played 
the  Trojan  War,  and  aspired  to  the  honor  of  acting 
Hector,  Achilles,  or  Ajax  ! 

Of  Herr  Liebe,  our  teacher,  I  remember  only 
three  things.  On  his  daughter's  birthday  he  treated 
us  to  cake  and  wine,  and  we  had  to  sing  a  festal  song 
composed  by  himself,  the  refrain  of  which  changed 
every  year : 

"  Clara,  with  her  fair  hair  thick, 

Clara,  with  her  eyes  like  heaven, 
Can  no  more  be  called  a  chick, 
For  to-day  she's  really  seven." 


EARLY    IMPRESSIONS. 


55 


I  remember,  too,  how  when  she  was  eight  years 
old  we  had  to  transpose  the  words  a  little  to  make 
the  measure  right.  Karl  von  Holtei  had  a  more 
difficult  task  when,  after  the  death  of  the  Emperor 
Francis  (Kaiser  Franz),  he  had  to  fit  the  name  of 
his  successor,  Ferdinand,  into  the  beautiful  "  Gott- 
erhalte  Franz  den  Kaiser,"  but  he  got  cleverly  out 
of  the  affair  by  making  it  "  Gott  erhalte  Ferdinan- 
dum."  * 

My  second  recollection  is,  that  we  assisted  Herr 
Liebe,  who  was  a  churchwarden  and  had  the  honour 
of  taking  up  the  collection,  to  sort  the  money,  and 
how  it  delighted  us  to  hear  him  scold — with  good 
reason,  too — when  we  found  among  the  silver  and 
copper  pieces — as,  alas !  we  almost  always  did — 
counters  and  buttons  from  various  articles  of 
clothing. 

In  the  third  place,  I  must  accuse  Herr  Liebe  of 
having  paid  very  little  attention  to  our  behaviour 
out  of  school.  Had  he  kept  his  eyes  open,  we 
might  have  been  spared  many  a  bruise  and  our 
garments  many  a  rent ;  for,  as  often  as  we  could 
manage  it,  instead  of  going  directly  home  from 
the  Schulgartenstrasse,  we  passed  through  the  Pots- 
dam Gate  to  the  square  beyond.  There  lurked  the 
enemy,  and  we  sought  them  out.  The  enemy  were 
the  pupils  of  a  humbler  grade  of  school  who 
called  us  Privy  Councillor's  youngsters,  which  most 

*  "  God  save  the  Emperor  Francis  ! " 

5 


56  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

of  us  were ;  and  we  called  them,  in  return,  Knoten, 
which  in  its  original  meaning  was  anything  but 
an  insult,  coming  as  it  does  by  a  natural  philo- 
logical process  from  "  Genote,"  the  older  form  of 
"  Genosse  "  or  comrade. 

But  to  accuse  us  of  arrogance  on  this  account 
would  be  doing  us  wrong.  Children  don't  fight 
regularly  with  those  whom  they  despise.  Our 
"  Knoten "  was  only  a  smart  answer  to  their 
"Geheimrathsjoren."  If  they  had  called  us  boo- 
bies we  should  probably  have  called  them  block- 
heads, or  something  of  that  sort. 

This  troop,  which  was  not  over-well-dressed 
even  before  the  beginning  of  the  conflict,  was  led 
by  some  boys  whose  father  kept  a  so-called  flmver- 
cellar — that  is,  a  basement  shop  for  plants,  wreaths, 
etc. — at  the  head  of  Leipzigerstrasse.  They  often 
sought  us  out,  but  when  they  did  not  we  enticed 
them  from  their  cellar  by  a  particular  sort  of  call, 
and  as  soon  as  they  appeared  we  all  slipped  into 
some  courtyard,  where  a  battle  speedily  raged,  in 
which  our  school  knapsacks  served  as  weapons  of 
offence  and  defence.  When  I  got  into  a  passion  I 
was  as  wild  as  a  fighting  cock,  and  even  quiet  Ludo 
could  deal  hard  blows ;  and  I  can  say  the  same  of 
most  of  the  "Geheimrathsjoren"  and  "Knoten." 
It  was  not  often  that  any  decided  success  attended 
the  fight,  for  the  janitor  or  some  inhabitant  of  the 
house  usually  interfered  and  brought  it  all  to  an 


EARLY   IMPRESSIONS. 


57 


untimely  end.  I  remember  still  how  a  fat  woman, 
probably  a  cook,  seized  me  by  the  collar  and 
pushed  me  out  into  the  street,  crying:  "Fie!  fie! 
such  young  gentlemen  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
themselves." 

Hegel,  however,  whose  influence  at  that  time 
was  still  great  in  the  learned  circles  of  Berlin,  had 
called  shame  "anger  against  what  is  natural,"  and 
we  liked  what  was  natural.  So  the  battles  with  the 
"  Knoten  "  were  continued  until  the  Berlin  revolu- 
tion called  forth  more  serious  struggles,  and  our 
mother  sent  us  away  to  Keilhau. 

Our  sisters  went  to  school  also,  a  school  kept 
by  Fraulein  Sollmann  in  the  Dorotheenstrasse. 
And  yet  we  had  a  tutor,  I  do  not  really  know  why. 
Whether  our  mother  had  heard  of  the  fights,  and 
recognized  the  impossibility  of  following  us  about 
everywhere,  or  whether  the  candidate  was  to  teach 
us  the  rudiments  of  Latin  after  we  went  to  the 
Schmidt  school  in  the  Leipziger  Platz,  at  the  be- 
ginning of  my  tenth  year,  I  neglected  to  inquire. 

The  Easter  holidays  always  brought  Brother 
Martin  home.  Then  he  told  us  about  Keilhau,  and 
we  longed  to  accompany  him  there ;  and  yet  we  had 
so  many  good  schoolmates  and  friends  at  home, 
such  spacious  playgrounds  and  beautiful  toys !  I 
recall  with  especial  pleasure  the  army  of  tin  sol- 
diers with  which  we  fought  battles,  and  the  brass 
cannon  that  mowed  down  their  ranks.  We  could 


58  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

build  castles  and  cathedrals  with  our  blocks,  and 
cooking  was  a  pleasure,  too,  when  our  sisters  al- 
lowed us  to  act  as  scullions  and  waiters  in  white 
aprons  and  caps. 

Martha,  the  eldest,  was  already  a  grown  young 
lady,  but  so  sweet  and  kind  that  we  never  feared  a 
rebuff  from  her ;  and  her  friends,  too,  liked  us  little 
ones. 

Martha's  contemporaries  formed  a  peculiarly 
charming  circle.  There  was  the  beautiful  Emma 
Baeyer,  the  daughter  of  General  Baeyer,  who  after- 
ward conducted  the  measuring  of  the  meridian  for 
central  Europe;  pretty,  lively  Anna  Kisting;  and 
Gretchen  Kugler,  a  handsome,  merry  girl,  who 
afterward  married  Paul  Heyse  and  died  young ; 
Clara  and  Agnes  Mitscherlich,  the  daughters  of  the 
celebrated  chemist,  the  younger  of  whom  was  espe- 
cially dear  to  my  childish  heart.*  Gustel  Grimm, 
too,  the  daughter  of  Wilhelm  Grimm,  was  often  at 
our  house.  The  queen  of  my  heart,  however,  was 
the  sister  of  our  playmate,  Max  Geppert,  and  at  this 
time  the  most  intimate  friend  of  my  sister  Paula. 

The  two   took   dancing  lessons   together,   and 


*  By  a  happy  chance,  I  met  in  Leipsic  three  of  these  girls 
whom  I  had  known  as  a  child.  Clara  Mitscherlich  was  the 
wife  of  the  celebrated  physicist,  Prof.  S.  Wiedermann,  Emma 
Bacycr,  the  wife  of  the  learned  and  acute  author  of  the  History 
of  Roman  Poetry,  the  philologist,  Otto  Ribbeck.  Agnes  Mit- 
scherlich is  the  widow  of  the  famous  surgeon,  Busch  of  Bonn. 


EARLY   IMPRESSIONS. 


59 


there  was  no  greater  joy  than  when  the  lesson  was 
at  our  house,  for  then  the  young  ladies  occasion- 
ally did  us  the  favour  of  dancing  with  us,  to  Herr 
Guichard's  tiny  violin. 

Warm  as  was  my  love  for  the  beautiful  Annchen, 
my  adored  one  came  near  getting  a  cold  from  it,  for, 
rogue  that  I  was,  I  hid  her  overshoes  during  the  les- 
son on  one  rainy  Saturday  evening,  that  I  might 
have  the  pleasure  of  taking  them  to  her  the  next 
morning. 

She  looked  at  that  time  like  the  woman  with 
whom  I  celebrated  my  silver  wedding  two  years 
ago,  and  certainly  belonged  to  the  same  feminine 
genre,  which  I  value  and  place  as  high  above  all 
others  as  Simonides  von  Amorgos  preferred  the 
beelike  woman  to  every  other  of  her  sex  :  I  mean 
the  kind  whose  womanliness  and  gentle  charm 
touch  the  heart  before  one  ever  thinks  of  intellect 
or  beauty. 

Our  mother  smiled  at  these  affairs,  and  her 
daughters,  as  girls,  gave  her  no  great  trouble  in 
guarding  their  not  too  impressionable  hearts. 

There  was  only  one  boy  for  whom  Paula  showed 
a  preference,  and  that  was  pretty  blond  Paul,  our 
Martin's  friend,  comrade,  and  contemporary,  the 
son  of  our  neighbour,  the  Privy-Councillor  Seiff art ; 
and  we  lived  a  good  deal  together,  for  his  mother 
and  ours  were  bosom  friends,  and  our  house  was  as 
open  to  him  as  his  to  us. 


60  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

Paul  was  born  on  the  same  November  day  as 
my  sister,  though  several  years  earlier,  and  their 
common  birthday  was  celebrated,  while  we  were 
little,  by  a  puppet-show  at  the  neighbour's,  con- 
ducted by  some  master  in  the  business,  on  a  pretty 
little  stage  in  the  great  hall  at  the  Seiffarts'  resi- 
dence. 

I  have  never  forgotten  those  performances,  and 
laugh  now  when  I  think  of  the  knight  who  shouted 
to  his  servant  Kasperle,  "  Fear  my  thread ! "  (Zwirri), 
when  what  he  intended  to  say  was,  "  Fear  my 
anger!"  (Zorti).  Or  of  that  same  Kasperle,  when 
he  gave  his  wife  a  tremendous  drubbing  with  a 
stake,  and  then  inquired,  "  Want  another  ounce  of 
unburned  wood-ashes,  my  darling?" 

Paula  was  very  fond  of  these  farces.  She  was, 
however,  from  a  child  rather  a  singular  young 
creature,  who  did  not  by  any  means  enjoy  all  the 
amusements  of  her  age.  When  grown,  it  was  often 
with  difficulty  that  our  mother  persuaded  her  to 
attend  a  ball,  while  Martha's  eyes  sparkled  joy- 
ously when  there  was  a  dance  in  prospect ;  and 
yet  the  tall  and  slender  Paula  looked  extremely 
pretty  in  a  ball  dress. 

Gay  and  active,  indeed  bold  as  a  boy  some- 
times, so  that  she  would  lead  in  taking  the  rather 
dangerous  leap  from  a  balcony  of  our  high  ground 
floor  into  the  garden,  clever,  and  full  of  droll  fan- 
cies, she  dwelt  much  in  her  own  thoughts.  Sev- 


EARLY   IMPRESSIONS.  6 1 

eral  volumes  of  her  journal  came  to  me  after  our 
mother's  death,  and  it  is  odd  enough  to  find  the 
thirteen-year-old  girl  confessing  that  she  likes  no 
worldly  pleasures,  and  yet,  being  a  very  truthful 
child,  she  was  only  expressing  a  perfectly  sincere 
feeling. 

It  was  touching  to  read  in  the  same  confessions: 
"  I  was  in  a  dreamy  mood,  and  they  said  I  must  be 
longing  for  something — Paul,  no  doubt.  I  did  not 
dispute  it,  for  I  really  was  longing  for  some  one, 
though  it  was  not  a  boy,  but  our  dead  father." 
And  Paula  was  only  three  years  old  when  he  left  us  ! 

No  one  would  have  thought,  who  saw  her  de- 
light when  there  were  fireworks  in  the  Seiffarts' 
garden,  or  when  in  our  own,  with  her  curls  and  her 
gown  flying,  her  cheeks  glowing,  and  her  eyes  flash- 
ing, she  played  with  all  her  heart  at  "  catch  "  or 
"  robber  and  princess,"  or,  all  animation  and  inter- 
est, conducted  a  performance  of  our  puppet-show, 
that  she  would  sometimes  shun  all  noisy  pleasure, 
that  she  longed  with  enthusiastic  piety  for  the  Sun- 
day churchgoing,  and  could  plunge  into  medita- 
tion on  subjects  that  usually  lie  far  from  childish 
thoughts  and  feelings. 

Yet  who  would  fancy  her  thoughtless  when  she 
wrote  in  her  journal :  "  Fie,  Paula !  You  have 
taken  no  trouble.  Mother  had  a  right  to  expect  a 
better  report.  However,  to  be  happy,  one  must 
forget  what  cannot  be  altered." 


62  THE   STORY  OF   MY  LIFE. 

In  reality,  she  was  not  in  the  least  "  feather- 
headed."  Her  life  proved  that,  and  it  is  apparent, 
too,  in  the  words  I  found  on  another  page  of  her 
journal,  at  thirteen  :  "  Mother  and  Martha  are  at 
the  Drakes;  I  will  learn  my  hymn,  and  then  read  in 
the  Bible  about  the  sufferings  of  Jesus.  Oh,  what 
anguish  that  must  have  been  !  And  I  ?  What  do 
I  do  that  is  good,  in  making  others  happy  or  con- 
soling their  trouble  ?  This  must  be  different, 
Paula !  I  will  begin  a  new  life.  Mother  always 
says  we  are  happy  when  we  deny  self  in  order  to 
do  good.  Ah,  if  we  always  could !  But  I  will  try  ; 
for  He  did,  though  He  might  have  escaped,  for 
our  sins  and  to  make  us  happy." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

MY    INTRODUCTION    TO    ART,   AND    ACQUAINTANCES 
GREAT    AND    SMALL    IN    THE    LENNE"STRASSE. 

THE  Drakes  mentioned  in  my  sister's  journal 
are  the  family  of  the  sculptor,  to  whom  Berlin  and 
many  another  German  city  owe  such  splendid 
works  of  art. 

He  was  also  one  of  our  neighbours,  and  a  warm 
friendship  bound  him  and  his  young  wife  to  my 
mother.  He  was  kind  to  us  children,  too,  and  had 
us  in  his  studio,  which  was  connected  with  the 


INTRODUCTION   TO   ART.  63 

house  like  the  other  and  larger  one  in  the  Thier- 
garten.  He  even  gave  us  a  bit  of  clay  to  shape. 
I  have  often  watched  him  at  work  for  hours,  chat- 
tering to  him,  but  happier  still  to  listen  while  he 
told  us  of  his  childhood  when  he  was  a  poor  boy. 
He  exhorted  us  to  be  thankful  that  we  were  better 
off,  but  generally  added  that  he  would  not  ex- 
change for  anything  in  the  world  those  days  when 
he  went  barefoot.  His  bright,  clear  artist's  eyes 
sparkled  as  he  spoke,  and  it  must  indeed  have 
been  a  glorious  satisfaction  to  have  conquered  the 
greatest  hindrances  by  his  own  might,  and  to  have 
raised  himself  to  the  highest  pinnacle  of  life — that 
of  art.  I  had  a  dim  impression  of  this  when  he 
talked  to  us,  and  now  I  consider  every  one  envi- 
able who  has  only  himself  to  thank  for  all  he  is, 
like  Drake,  his  friend  in  art  Ritschl,  and  my  dear 
friend  Josef  Kopf,  in  Rome,  all  three  laurel- 
crowned  masters  in  the  art  of  sculpture. 

In  Drake's  studio  I  saw  statues,  busts,  and  re- 
liefs grow  out  of  the  rude  mass  of  clay ;  I  saw  the 
plaster  cast  turned  into  marble,  and  the  master, 
with  his  sure  hand,  evoking  splendid  forms  from 
the  primary  limestone.  What  I  could  not  under- 
stand, the  calm,  kindly  man  explained  with  unfail- 
ing patience,  and  so  I  got  an  early  insight  into 
the  sculptor's  creative  art. 

It  was  these  recollections  of  my  childhood  that 
suggested  to  me  the  character  of  little  Pennu  in 


64  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

Uarda,  of  Polykarp  in  Homo  Sum,  of  Pollux  in 
The  Emperor,  and  the  cheery  Alexander  in  Per 
Aspera." 

I  often  visited  also,  during  my  last  years  in 
Berlin,  the  studio  of  another  sculptor.  His  name 
was  Streichenberg,  and  his  workshop  was  in  our 
garden  in  the  Linkstrasse. 

If  a  thoughtful  earnestness  was  the  rule  in 
Drake's  studio,  in  that  of  Prof.  Streichenberg  ar- 
tistic gaiety  reigned.  He  often  whistled  or  sang 
at  his  work,  and  his  young  Italian  assistant  played 
the  guitar.  But  while  I  still  know  exactly  what 
Drake  executed  in  our  presence,  so  that  I  could 
draw  the  separate  groups  of  the  charming  relief, 
the  Genii  of  the  Thiergarten,  I  do  not  remember  a 
single  stroke  of  Streichenberg's  work,  though  I 
can  recall  all  the  better  the  gay  manner  of  the  art- 
ist whom  we  again  met  in  1848  as  a  demagogue. 

At  the  Schmidt  school  Franz  and  Paul  Meyer- 
heim  were  among  our  comrades,  and  how  full  of 
admiration  I  was  when  one  of  them  —  Franz, 
I  think,  who  was  then  ten  or  eleven  years  old — 
showed  us  a  hussar  he  had  painted  himself  in  oil 
on  a  piece  of  canvas!  The  brothers  took  us  to 
their  home,  and  there  I  saw  at  his  work  their 
kindly  father,  the  creator  of  so  many  charming 
pictures  of  country  and  child  life. 

There  was  also  a  member  of  the  artist  family  of 
the  Begas,  Adalbert,  who  was  one  of  our  contem- 


INTRODUCTION   TO  ART.  65 

poraries  and  playmates,  some  of  whose  beautiful 
portraits  I  saw  afterward,  but  whom,  to  my  regret, 
I  never  met  again. 

Most  memorable  of  all  were  our  meetings  with 
Peter  Cornelius,  who  also  lived  in  the  Lennestrasse. 
When  I  think  of  him  it  always  seems  as  if  he  were 
looking  me  in  the  face.  Whoever  once  gazed  into 
his  eyes  could  never  forget  them.  He  was  a  little 
man,  with  waxen-pale,  and  almost  harsh,  though 
well-formed  features,  and  smooth,  long,  coal-black 
hair.  He  might  scarcely  have  been  noticed  save 
for  his  eyes,  which  overpowered  all  else,  as  the 
sunlight  puts  out  starlight.  Those  eyes  would 
have  drawn  attention  to  him  anywhere.  His  pe- 
culiar seriousness  and  his  aristocratic  reserve  of 
manner  were  calculated  to  keep  children  at  a  dis- 
tance, even  to  repel  them,  and  we  avoided  the 
stern  little  man  whom  we  had  heard  belonged  to 
the  greatest  of  the  great.  When  he  and  his  amia- 
ble wife  became  acquainted  with  our  mother,  how- 
ever, and  he  called  us  to  him,  it  is  indescribable 
how  his  harsh  features  softened  in  the  intercourse 
with  us  little  ones,  till  they  assumed  an  expression 
of  the  utmost  benevolence,  and  with  what  penetrat- 
ing, I  might  say  fatherly  kindness,  he  talked  and 
even  jested  with  us  in  his  impressive  way.  I  had 
the  best  of  it,  for  my  blond  curly  head  struck  him  as 
usable  in  some  work  of  his,  and  my  mother  readily 
consented  to  my  being  his  model.  So  I  had  to 


66  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

keep  still  several  hours  day  after  day,  though  I 
confess,  to  my  shame,  that  I  remember  nothing 
about  the  sittings  except  having  eaten  some  par- 
ticularly good  candied  fruit. 

Even  now  I  smile  at  the  recollection  of  his 
making  an  angel  or  a  spirit  of  peace  out  of  the 
wild  boy  who  perhaps  just  before  had  been  scuf- 
fling with  the  enemy  from  the  flower-cellar. 

There  was  another  celebrated  inhabitant  of  the 
Lenne"strasse  whose  connection  with  us  was  still 
closer  than  that  of  Peter  Cornelius.  It  was  the 
councillor  of  consistory  and  court  chaplain  Strauss, 
who  lived  at  No.  3. 

Two  men  more  unlike  than  he  and  his  great 
artist-neighbour  can  hardly  be  imagined,  though 
their  cradles  were  not  far  apart,  for  the  painter 
was  born  in  Diisseldorf,  and  the  clergyman  at  Iser- 
lohn,  in  Westphalia. 

Cornelius  appears  to  me  like  a  peculiarly  deli- 
cate type  of  the  Latin  race,  while  Strauss  might  be 
called  a  prototype  of  the  sturdy  Lower  Saxons. 
Broad-shouldered,  stout,  ruddy,  with  small  but 
kindly  blue  eyes,  and  a  resonant  bass  voice  suited 
to  fill  great  spaces,  he  was  always  at  his  ease  and 
made  others  easy.  He  had  a  touch  of  the  assured 
yet  fine  dignity  of  a  well-placed  and  well-educated 
Catholic  prelate,  though  combined  with  the  war- 
like spirit  of  a  Protestant. 

Looking  more  closely  at  his  healthy  face,  it  re- 


INTRODUCTION    TO   ART.  6/ 

vealed  not  only  benevolent  amiability  but  superior 
sense  and  plain  traces  of  that  cheery  elasticity  of 
soul  which  gave  him  such  power  over  the  hearts  of 
the  listening  congregation,  and  the  disposition  and 
mind  of  the  king. 

His  religious  views  I  do  not  accept,  but  I  be- 
lieve his  strictly  orthodox  belief  was  based  upon 
conviction,  and  cannot  be  charged  to  any  odious 
display  of  piety  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  king. 
It  was  in  the  time  of  our  boyhood  that  Alexander 
von  Humboldt,  going  once  with  the  king  to  church, 
in  Potsdam,  in  answer  to  the  sneering  question  how 
he,  who  passed  for  a  freethinker  at  court,  could  go 
to  the  house  of  God,  made  the  apt  reply,  "  In  order 
to  get  on,  your  Excellency." 

When  Strauss  met  us  in  the  street  and  called  to 
us  with  a  certain  unction  in  his  melodious  voice, 
"  Good-morning,  my  dear  children  in  Christ !  "  our 
hearts  went  out  to  him,  and  it  seemed  as  i£  we  had 
received  a  blessing.  He  and  his  son  Otto  used  to 
call  me  "  Marcus  Aurelius,"  on  account  of  my  curly 
blond  head ;  and  how  often  did  he  put  his  strong 
hand  into  my  thick  locks  to  draw  me  toward  him  ! 

Strauss  was  in  the  counsels  of  the  king,  Fred- 
erick William  IV,  and  at  important  moments  exer- 
cised an  influence  on  his  political  decisions.  Yet 
that  somewhat  eccentric  prince  could  not  resist  his 
inclination  to  make  cheap  jokes  at  Strauss's  ex- 
pense. After  creating  him  court-chaplain,  he  said 


68  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

to  Alexander  von  Humboldt:  "  A  trick  in  natural 
history  which  you  cannot  copy  !  I  have  turned 
an  ostrich  (Strauss)  into  a  bullfinch  (Dompfaffer)" 
— in  allusion  to  Strauss's  being  a  preacher  at  the 
cathedral  (Dom). 

Fritz,  the  worthy  man's  eldest  son,  came  to  see 
me  in  Leipsic.  Our  studies  in  the  department  of 
biblical  geography  had  led  us  to  different  conclu- 
sions, but  our  scientific  views  were  constantly  in- 
termingled with  recollections  of  the  Lenne"strasse. 

But  better  than  he,  who  was  much  older,  do  I 
remember  his  brother  Otto,  then  a  bright,  amiable 
young  man,  and  his  mother,  who  was  from  the  Rhine 
country,  a  warm-hearted,  kindly  woman  of  aristo- 
cratic bearing. 

Our  mother  had  a  very  high  opinion  of  the  court 
chaplain,  who  had  christened  us  all  and  afterward 
confirmed  my  sisters,  and  officiated  at  Martha's 
marriage.  But,  much  as  she  appreciated  him  as  a 
friend  and  counsellor,  she  could  not  accept  his  strict 
theology.  Though  she  received  the  communion  at 
his  hands,  with  my  sisters,  she  preferred  the  ser- 
mons of  the  regimental  chaplain,  Bollert,  and  later 
those  of  the  excellent  Sydow.  I  well  remember  her 
grief  when  Bollert,  whose  free  interpretation  of 
Scripture  had  aroused  displeasure  at  court,  was 
sent  to  Potsdam. 

I  find  an  amusing  echo  of  the  effect  of  this  meas- 
ure in  Paula's  journal,  and  it  would  have  been  al- 


INTRODUCTION   TO   ART.  69 

most  impossible  for  a  growing  girl  of  active  mind 
to  take  no  note  of  opinions  which  she  heard  every- 
where expressed. 

Our  entire  circle  was  loyal ;  especially  Privy- 
Councillor  Seiffart,  one  of  our  most  intimate  friends, 
a  sarcastic  Conservative,  who  was  credited  with  the 
expresssion,  "  The  limited  intellect  of  subjects," 
which,  however,  belonged  to  his  superior,  Minister 
von  Rochow.  Still,  almost  all  my  mother's  ac- 
quaintances, and  the  younger  ones  without  excep- 
tion, felt  a  desire  for  better  political  conditions 
and  a  constitution  for  the  brave,  loyal,  reflecting, 
and  well-educated  Prussian  people.  In  the  same 
house  with  us  lived  two  men  who  had  suffered  for 
their  political  convictions — the  brothers  Grimm. 
They  had  been  ejected  from  their  chairs  among 
the  seven  professors  of  Gottingen,  who  were  sacri- 
ficed to  the  arbitrary  humour  of  King  Ernst  August 
of  Hanover. 

Their  dignified  figures  are  among  the  noblest 
and  most  memorable  recollections  of  the  Lenne"- 
strasse.  They -were,  it  might  be  said,  one  person, 
for  they  were  seldom  seen  apart ;  yet  each  had 
preserved  his  own  distinct  individuality. 

If  ever  the  external  appearance  of  distinguished 
men  corresponded  with  the  idea  formed  of  them 
from  their  deeds  and  works,  it  was  so  in  their  case. 
One  did  not  need  to  know  them  to  perceive  at  the 
first  glance  that  they  were  labourers  in  the  depart- 


70  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

ment  of  intellectual  life,  though  whether  as  scien- 
tists or  poets  even  a  practised  observer  would  have 
found  it  difficult  to  determine.  Their  long,  flow- 
ing, wavy  hair,  and  an  atmosphere  of  ideality  which 
enveloped  them  both,  might  have  inclined  one  to  the 
latter  supposition ;  while  the  form  of  their  brows, 
indicating  deep  thought  and  severe  mental  labor, 
and  their  slightly  stooping  shoulders,  would  have 
suggested  the  former.  Wilhelm's  milder  features 
were  really  those  of  a  poet,  while  Jakob's  sterner 
cast  of  countenance,  and  his  piercing  eyes,  indi- 
cated more  naturally  a  searcher  after  knowl- 
edge. 

But  just  as  certainly  as  that  they  both  belonged 
to  the  strongest  champions  of  German  science,  the 
Muse  had  kissed  them  in  their  cradle.  Not  only 
their  manner  of  restoring  our  German  legends,  but 
almost  all  their  writings,  give  evidence  of  a  po- 
etical mode  of  viewing  things,  and  of  an  intuition 
peculiar  to  the  spirit  of  poetry.  Many  of  their 
writings,  too,  are  full  of  poetical  beauties. 

That  both  were  men  in  the  fullest  meaning  of 
the  word  was  revealed  at  the  first  glance.  They 
proved  it  when,  to  stand  by  their  convictions,  they 
put  themselves  and  their  families  at  the  mercy  of 
a  problematical  future ;  and  when,  in  advanced 
years,  they  undertook  the  gigantic  work  of  com- 
piling so  large  and  profound  a  German  dictionary. 

Jakob  looked  as   if   nothing  could   bend  him  ; 


INTRODUCTION   TO   ART.  yr 

Wilhelm  as  if,  though  equally  strong,  he  might  yield 
out  of  love. 

And  what  a  fascinating,  I  might  almost  say  child- 
like, amiability  was  united  to  manliness  in  both  char- 
acters !  Yes,  theirs  was  indeed  that  sublime  sim- 
plicity which  genius  has  in  common  with  the  children 
whom  the  Saviour  called  to  him.  It  spoke  from 
the  eyes  whose  gaze  was  so  searching,  and  echoed 
in  their  language  which  so  easily  mastered  difficult 
things,  though  when  they  condescended  to  play 
with  their  children  and  with  us,  and  jested  so 
naively,  we  were  half  tempted  to  think  ourselves 
the  wiser. 

But  we  knew  with  what  intellectual  giants  we 
had  to  do  ;  no  one  had  needed  to  tell  us  that,  at 
least ;  and  when  they  called  me  to  them  I  felt  as  if 
the  king  himself  had  honoured  me. 

Only  Wilhelm  was  married,  and  his  wife  had 
hardly  her  equal  for  sunny  and  simple  kindness  of 
heart.  A  pleasanter,  more  motherly,  sweeter  ma- 
tron I  never  met. 

Hermann,  who  won  good  rank  as  a  poet,  and 
was  one  of  the  very  foremost  of  our  aesthetics,  was 
much  older  than  we.  The  tall  young  man,  who 
often  walked  as  if  he  were  absorbed  in  thought, 
seemed  to  us  a  peculiar  and  unapproachable  per- 
son. His  younger  brother,  Rudolf,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  a  cheery  fellow,  whose  beauty  and  bright- 
ness charmed  me  unspeakably.  When  he  came  along 
6 


72  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

with  elastic  tread  as  if  he  were  challenging  life  to 
a  conflict,  and  I  saw  him  spring  up  the  stairs  three 
steps  at  a  time,  I  was  delighted,  and  I  knew  that 
my  mother  was  very  fond  of  him.  It  was  just  the 
same  with  "  Gustel,"  his  sister,  who  was  as  amiable 
and  kindly  as  her  mother. 

I  can  still  see  the  torchlight  procession  with 
which  the  Berlin  students  honoured  the  beloved 
and  respected  brothers,  and  which  we  watched  from 
the  Grimms'  windows  because  they  were  higher 
than  ours.  But  there  is  a  yet  brighter  light  of  fire 
in  my  memory.  It  was  shed  by  the  burning  opera- 
house.  Our  mother,  who  liked  to  have  us  partici- 
pate in  anything  remarkable  which  might  be  a 
recollection  for  life,  took  us  out  of  our  beds  to  the 
next  house,  where  the  Seiffarts  lived,  and  which 
had  a  little  tower  on  it.  Thence  we  gazed  in  ad- 
miration at  the  ever-deepening  glow  of  the  sky, 
toward  which  great  tongues  of  flame  kept  stream- 
ing up,  while  across  the  dusk  shot  formless  masses 
like  radiant  spark-showering  birds.  Pillars  of  smoke 
mingled  with  the  clouds,  and  the  metallic  note  of 
the  fire-bells  calling  for  help  accompanied  the  grand 
spectacle.  I  was  only  six  years  old,  but  I  remem- 
ber distinctly  that  when  Ludo  and  I  were  taken  to 
the  Liitz  swimming-baths  next  day,  we  found  first 
on  the  drill-ground,  then  on  the  bank  of  the  Spree, 
and  in  the  water,  charred  pieces,  large  and  small, 
of  the  side-scenes  of  the  theatre.  They  were  the 


INTRODUCTION   TO   ART. 


73 


glowing  birds  whose  flight  I  had  watched  from  the 
tower  of  the  Crede  house. 

This  remark  reminds  me  how  early  our  mother 
provided  for  our  physical  development,  for  I  clearly 
remember  that  the  tutor  who  took  us  little  fellows 
to  the  bath  called  our  attention  to  these  bits  of 
decoration  while  we  were  swimming.  When  I  went 
to  Keilhau,  at  eleven  years  old,  I  had  mastered  the 
art  completely. 

I  did,  in  fact,  many  things  at  an  earlier  age  than 
is  customary,  because  I  was  always  associated  with 
my  brother,  who  was  a  year  and  a  half  older. 

We  were  early  taught  to  skate,  too,  and  how 
many  happy  hours  we  passed,  frequently  with  our 
sisters,  on  the  ice  by  the  Louisa  and  Rousseau 
Islands  in  the  Thiergarten  !  The  first  ladies  who 
at  that  time  distinguished  themselves  as  skaters 
were  the  wife  and  daughter  of  the  celebrated 
surgeon  Dieffenbach — two  fine,  supple  figures,  who 
moved  gracefully  over  the  ice,  and  in  their  fur- 
bordered  jackets  and  Polish  caps  trimmed  with 
sable  excited  universal  admiration. 

On  the  whole,  we  had  time  enough  for  such 
things,  though  we  lost  many  a  free  hour  in  music- 
lessons.  Ludo  was  learning  to  play  on  the  piano, 
but  I  had  chosen  another  instrument.  Among  our 
best  friends,  the  three  fine  sons  of  Privy-Councillor 
Oesterreich  and  others,  there  was  a  pleasant  boy 
named  Victor  Rubens,  whose  parents  were  likewise 


74 


THE   STORY    OF    MY    LIFE. 


friends  of  my  mother.  In  the  hospitable  house  of 
this  agreeable  family  I  had  heard  the  composer 
Vieuxtemps  play  the  violin  when  I  was  nine  years 
old.  I  went  home  fairly  enraptured,  and  begged 
my  mother  to  let  me  take  lessons.  My  wish  was 
fulfilled,  and  for  many  years  I  exerted  myself 
zealously,  without  any  result,  to  accomplish  some- 
thing on  the  violin.  I  did,  indeed,  attain  to  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  skill,  but  I  was  so  little  satisfied 
with  my  own  performances  that  I  one  day  re- 
nounced the  hope  of  becoming  a  practical  mu- 
sician, and  presented  my  handsome  violin — a  gift 
from  my  grandmother — to  a  talented  young  vir- 
tuoso, the  son  of  my  sisters'  French  teacher. 

The  actress  Crelinger,  when  she  came  to  see  my 
mother,  made  a  great  impression  on  me,  at  this 
time,  by  her  majestic  appearance  and  her  deep,, 
musical  voice.  She,  and  her  daughter,  Clara  Stich, 
afterward  Frau  Liedtcke,  the  splendid  singer,  Frau 
Jachmann-Wagner,  and  the  charming  Frau  Schlegel- 
KOster,  were  the  only  members  of  the  theatrical  pro- 
fession who  were  included  among  the  Gepperts' 
friends,  and  whose  acquaintance  we  made  in  con- 
sequence. 

Frau  Crelinger's  husband  was  a  highly  respected 
jurist  and  councillor  of  justice,  but  among  all  the 
councillors'  wives  by  whom  she  was  surrounded 
I  never  heard  her  make  use  of  her  husband's  title. 
She  was  simply  "  Frau "  in  society,  and  for  the 


INTRODUCTION   TO   ART. 


75 


public  Crelinger.  She  knew  her  name  had  an  im- 
portance of  its  own.  Even  though  posterity  twines 
no  wreaths  for  actors,  it  is  done  in  the  grateful 
memory  of  survivors.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
ennobling  and  elevating  hours  I  afterward  owed 
to  that  great  and  noble  interpreter  of  character. 

I  am  also  indebted  to  Frau  Jachmann-Wagner 
for  much  enjoyment  both  in  opera  and  the  drama. 
She  now  renders  meritorious  service  by  fitting — 
on  the  soundest  artistic  principles — younger  sing- 
ers for  the  stage. 

Among  my  mother's  papers  was  a  humorous 
note  announcing  the  arrival  of  a  friend  from 
Oranienburg,  and  signed : 

"  Your  faithful  old  dog,  Runge, 
Who  was  born  in  a  quiet  way 
At  Neustadt,  I've  heard  say." 

He  came  not  once,  but  several  times.  He  bore 
the  title  of  professor,  was  a  chemist,  and  I  learned 
from  friends  versed  in  that  science  that  it  was  in- 
debted to  him  for  interesting  discoveries. 

He  had  been  an  acquaintance  of  my  father,  and 
no  on.e  who  met  him,  bubbling  over  with  animation 
and  lively  wit,  could  easily  forget  him.  He  had  a 
full  face  and  long,  straight,  dark  hair  hanging  on 
his  short  neck,  while  intellect  and  kindness  beamed 
from  his  twinkling  eyes.  When  he  tossed  me  up 
and  laughed,  I  laughed  too,  and  it  seemed  as  if  all 
Nature  must  laugh  with  us. 


76  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

I  have  not  met  so  strong  and  original  a  char- 
acter for  many  a  long  year,  and  I  was  very  glad  to 
read  in  the  autobiography  of  Wackernagel  that 
when  it  went  ill  with  him  in  Berlin,  Hoffman  von 
Fallersleben  and  this  same  Runge  invited  him  to 
Breslau  to  share  their  poverty,  which  was  so  great 
that  they  often  did  not  know  at  night  where  they 
should  get  the  next  day's  bread. 

How  many  other  names  with  and  without  the 
title  of  privy-councillor  occur  to  me,  but  I  must 
not  allow  myself  to  think  of  them. 

Fraulein  Lamperi,  however,  must  have  a  place 
here.  She  used  to  dine  with  us  at  least  once  a 
week,  and  was  among  the  most  faithful  adherents 
of  our  family.  She  had  been  governess  to  my 
father  and  his  only  sister,  and  later  was  in  the 
service  of  the  Princess  of  Prussia,  afterward  the 
Empress  Augusta,  as  waiting-woman. 

She,  too,  was  one  of  those  original  characters 
whom  we  never  find  now. 

She  was  so  clever  that,  incredible  as  it  sounds, 
she  made  herself  a  wig  and  some  false  teeth,  and 
yet  she  came  of  a  race  whose  women  were  not 
accustomed  to  serve  themselves  with  their  own 
hands;  for  the  blood  of  the  venerable  and  aristo- 
cratic Altoviti  family  of  Florence  flowed  in  her 
veins.  Her  father  came  into  the  world  as  a  mar- 
quis of  that  name,  but  was  disinherited  when, 
against  the  will  of  his  family,  he  married  the 


INTRODUCTION   TO   ART.  77 

dancer  Lamperi.  With  her  he  went  first  to  War- 
saw, and  then  to  Berlin,  where  he  supported  him- 
self and  his  children  by  giving  lessons  in  the 
languages.  One  daughter  was  a  prominent  mem- 
ber of  the  Berlin  ballet,  the  other  was  prepared  by 
a  most  careful  education  to  be  a  governess.  She 
gave  various  lessons  to  my  sisters,  and  criticised 
our  proceedings  sharply,  as  she  did  those  of  her 
fellow-creatures  in  general.  "  I  can't  help  it — I 
must  say  what  I  think,"  was  the  palliating  remark 
which  followed  every  severe  censure  ;  and  I  owe  to 
her  the  conviction  that  it  is  much  easier  to  express 
disapproval,  when  it  can  be  done  with  impunity, 
than  to  keep  it  to  one's  self,  as  I  am  also  indebted 
to  her  for  the  subject  of  my  fairy  tale,  The  Elixir. 

I  shall  return  to  Fraulein  Lamperi,  for  her  con- 
nection with  our  family  did  not  cease  until  her 
death,  and  she  lived  to  be  ninety.  Her  aristocratic 
connections  in  Florence — be  it  said  to  their  honour 
— never  repudiated  her,  but  visited  her  when  they 
came  to  Berlin,  and  the  equipage  of  the  Italian 
ambassador  followed  at  her  funeral,  for  he,  too, 
belonged  to  her  father's  kindred.  The  extreme 
kindness  extended  to  her  by  Emperor  William  I 
and  his  sovereign  spouse  solaced  her  old  age  in 
various  ways. 

One  of  the  dearest  friends  of  my  sister  Paula 
and  of  our  family  knew  more  of  me,  unfortunately, 
at  this  time  than  I  of  her.  Her  name  was  Babette 


78  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

Meyer,  now  Countess  Kalckreuth.  She  lived  in 
our  neighbourhood,  and  was  a  charming,  graceful 
child,  but  not  one  of  our  acquaintances. 

When  she  was  grown  up — we  were  good  friends 
then — she  told  me  she  was  coming  from  school  one 
winter  day,  and  some  boys  threw  snowballs  at  her. 
Then  Ludo  and  I  appeared — "  the  Ebers  boys  "- 
and  she  thought  that  would  be  the  end  of  her;  but 
instead  of  attacking  her  we  fell  upon  the  boys,  who 
turned  upon  us,  and  drove  them  away,  she  escap- 
ing betwixt  Scylla  and  Charybdis. 

Before  this  praiseworthy  deed  we  had,  however, 
thrown  snow  at  a  young  lady  in  wanton  mischief. 
I  forgive  our  heedlessness  as  we  were  forgiven,  but 
it  is  really  a  painful  thought  to  me  that  we  should 
have  snowballed  a  poor  insane  man,  well  known 
in  the  Thiergarten  and  Lennestrasse,  and  who  seri- 
ously imagined  that  he  was  made  of  glass. 

I  began  to  relate  this,  thinking  of  our  uproari- 
ous laughter  when  the  poor  fellow  cried  out :  "  Let 
me  alone !  I  shall  break !  Don't  you  hear  me 
clink  ?  "  Then  I  stopped,  for  my  heart  aches  when 
I  reflect  what  terrible  distress  our  thoughtlessness 
caused  the  unfortunate  creature.  We  were  not 
bad-hearted  children,  and  yet  it  occurred  to  none 
of  us  to  put  ourselves  in  the  place  of  the  whimper- 
ing man  and  think  what  he  suffered.  But  we  could 
not  do  it.  A  child  is  naturally  egotistical,  and  un- 
able in  such  a  case  to  distinguish  between  what  is 


A   BERLIN   CHILD. 


79 


Amusing  and  what  is  sad.  Had  the  cry,  "  It  hurts 
me ! "  once  fallen  from  the  trembling  lips  of  the 
"glass  man,"  I  think  we  should  have  thrown 
nothing  more  at  him. 

But  our  young  hearts  did  not,  under  all  circum- 
stances, allow  what  amused  us  to  cast  kinder  feel- 
ings into  the  shade.  The  "  man  of  glass  "  had  a 
feminine  pendant  in  the  "  crazy  Frau  Councillor 
with  the  velvet  envelope."  This  was  a  name  she 
herself  had  given  to  a  threadbare  little  velvet 
cloak,  when  some  naughty  boys — were  we  among 
them  ? — were  snowballing  her,  and  she  besought 
us  not  to  injure  her  velvet  envelope.  But  when 
there  was  ice  on  the  ground  and  one  of  the  boys 
was.  trying  to  get  her  on  to  a  slide,  Ludo  and  I 
interfered  and  prevented  it.  Naturally,  there  was 
a  good  fight  in  consequence,  but  I  am  glad  of  it  to 
this  day. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

WHAT  A  BERLIN  CHILD  ENJOYED  ON  THE  SPREE 
AND  AT  HIS  GRANDMOTHER'S  IN  DRESDEN. 

IN  the  summer  we  were  all  frequently  taken  to 
the  new  Zoological  Garden,  where  we  were  espe- 
cially delighted  with  the  drollery  of  the  monkeys. 
Even  then  I  felt  a  certain  pity  for  the  deer  and 
does  in  confinement,  and  for  the  wild  beasts  in  their 


80  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

cages,  and  this  so  grew  upon  me  that  many  a  visit 
to  a  zoological  garden  has  been  spoiled  by  it.  Once 
in  Keilhau  I  caught  a  fawn  in  the  wood  and  was 
delighted  with  my  beautiful  prize.  I  meant  to 
bring  it  up  with  our  rabbits,  and  had  already  carried 
it  quite  a  distance,  when  suddenly  I  began  to  be 
sorry  for  it,  and  thought  how  its  mother  would 
grieve,  upon  which  I  took  it  back  to  the  spot  where 
I  had  found  it  and  returned  to  the  institution  as  fast 
as  I  could,  but  said  nothing  at  first  about  my 
"stupidity,"  for  I  was  ashamed  of  it. 

Excursions  into  the  country  were  the  most  de- 
lightful pleasures  of  the  summer.  The  shorter 
ones  took  us  to  the  suburbs  of  the  capital,  and 
sometimes  to  Charlottenburg,  where  several  of  our 
acquaintances  lived,  and  our  guardian,  Alexander 
Mendelssohn,  had  a  country  house  with  a  beautiful 
garden,  where  there  was  never  any  lack  of  the 
owner's  children  and  grandchildren  for  playmates. 
Sometimes  we  were  allowed  to  go  there  with  other 
boys.  We  then  had  a  few  Groschen  to  get  some- 
thing at  a  restaurant,  and  were  generally  brought 
home  in  a  Kremser  carriage.  These  carriages  were 
to  be  found  in  a  long  row  by  the  wall  outside  of  the 
Brandenburg  Gate  or  at  the  Palace  in  Charlotten- 
burg or  by  the  "  Turkish  tent  " — for  at  that  time 
there  were  no  omnibuses  running  to  the  decidedly 
rural  neighbouring  city.  Even  when  the  carriages 
were  arranged  to  carry  ten  or  twelve  persons  there 


A    BERLIN    CHILD.  8 1 

was  but  one  horse,  and  it  was  these  Rosinantes 
which  probably  gave  rise  to  the  following  rhyme : 

"  A  Spandau  wind, 
A  child  of  Berlin, 
A  Charlottenburg  horse, 
Are  all  not  worth  a  pin." 

The  Berlin  children  were,  on  the  whole,  better 
than  their  reputation,  but  not  so  the  Charlotten- 
burg horses.  The  Kremser  carriages  were  named 
from  the  man  who  owned  most  of  them.  The  busi- 
ness was  carried  on  by  an  association.  A  single  in- 
dividual rarely  hired  one  ;  either  a  family  took  pos- 
session of  it,  or  you  got  in  and  waited  patiently  till 
enough  persons  had  collected  for  the  driver  to  think 
it  worth  while  to  take  his  whip  and  say,  "Well, 
get  up  !  " 

But  this  same  Herr  Kremser  also  had  nice  car- 
riages for  excursions  into  the  country,  drawn  by 
two  or  four  horses,  as  might  be  required.  For 
the  four-horse  Kremser  chariots  there  was  even 
a  driver  in  jockey  costume,  who  rode  the  saddle- 
horse. 

Other  excursions  took  us  to  the  beautiful  Hum- 
boldt'sTegel,  to  the  Miiggel  and  Schlachten  Lakes, 
to  Franzosisch  Buchholz,  Treptow,  and  Stralau. 
We  were,  unfortunately,  never  allowed  to  attend 
the  celebrated  fishing  festival  at  Stralau. 

But  the  crowning  expedition  of  all  was  on  our 
mother's  birthday,  either  to  the  Pichelsbergen, 


82  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

wooded  hills  mirrored  in  ponds  where  fish  abound- 
ed, or  to  the  Pfaueninsel  at  Potsdam. 

The  country  around  Berlin  is  considered  hope- 
lessly ugly,  but  with  great  injustice.  I  have  con- 
vinced myself  since  that  I  do  not  look  back  as 
fondly  on  the  Pichelsbergen  and  the  Havelufer  at 
Potsdam,  where  it  was  granted  us  to  pass  such 
happy  hours  in  the  springtime  of  life,  because  the 
force  of  imagination  has  clothed  them  with  fancied 
charms.  No,  these  places  have  indeed  a  singularly 
peaceful  attractiveness,  and  if  I  prefer  them,  as  a 
child  of  the  century,  to  real  mountains,  there  was 
a  time  when  the  artist's  eye  would  have  given  them 
the  preference  over  the  grand  landscapes  of  the 
Alpine  world. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  last  century  the  latter 
were  considered  repelling.  They  oppressed  the 
soul  by  their  immensity.  No  painter  then  under- 
took to  depict  giant  mountains  with  eternal  snow 
upon  summits  which  towered  above  the  clouds.  A 
Salvator  Rosa  or  Poussin,  or  even  the  great  Ruys- 
dael,  would  have  preferred  to  set  up  his  easel  at  the 
Pichelsbergen  or  in  the  country  about  Potsdam, 
rather  than  at  the  foot  of  Mont  Blanc,  the  Ko- 
nigssee,  or  the  Eibsee,  in  which  the  rocks  of  the 
Zugspit/e — my  vis-a-vis  at  Tiitzingen — are  magnifi- 
cently reflected. 

There  is  nothing  more  beautiful  than  the  mod- 
erate, finely  rounded  heights  at  these  peaceful  spots 


A   BERLIN   CHILD.  83 

rich  in  vegetation  and  in  water,  when  gilded  by  the 
fading  light  of  a  lovely  summer  evening  or  illu- 
mined by  the  rosy  tinge  of  the  afterglow.  Many 
of  our  later  German  painters  have  learned  to  value 
the  charm  of  such  a  subject,  while  of  our  writers 
Fontane  has  seized  and  very  happily  rendered  all 
their  witchery.  At  my  brother  Ludo's  manor- 
house  on  the  banks  of  the  Dahme,  at  his  place 
Dolgenbrodt,  in  Mark  Brandenburg,  Fontane  ex- 
perienced all  the  attraction  of  the  plain,  which  I 
have  never  felt  more  deeply  than  in  that  very  spot 
and  on  a  certain  evening  at  Potsdam  when  the  bells 
of  the  little  church  of  Sakrow  seemed  to  bid  fare- 
well to  the  sinking  sun  and  invite  him  to  return. 

In  the  East  I  have  seen  the  day-star  set  more 
brilliantly,  but  never  met  with  a  more  harmonious 
and  lovely  splendour  of  colour  than  on  summer 
evenings  in  the  Mark,  except  in  Holland  on  the 
shore  of  the  North  Sea. 

Can  I  ever  forget  those  festal  days  when,  after 
saying  our  little  congratulatory  verses  to  our 
mother,  and  admiring  her  birthday  table,  which  her 
friends  always  loaded  with  flowers,  we  awaited  the 
carriages  that  were  to  take  us  into  the  country  ? 
Besides  a  great  excursion  wagon,  there  were  gen- 
erally some  other  coaches  which  conveyed  us  and 
the  families  of  our  nearest  friends  on  our  jaunt. 

How  the  young  faces  beamed,  and  how  happy 
the  old  ones  looked,  and  what  big  baskets  there 


84  THE  STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

were  full  of  good  things  beside  the  coachman  and 
behind  the  carriage  ! 

We  were  soon  out  of  the  city,  and  the  birds  by 
the  wayside  could  not  have  twittered  and  sung  in 
May  more  gaily  than  we  during  these  drives. 

Once  we  let  the  horses  rest,  and  took  luncheon 
at  Stimming  near  the  Wannsee,  where  Heinrich  von 
Kleist  with  the  beloved  of  his  heart  put  an  end  to 
his  sad  life.  Before  we  stopped  we  met  a  troop  of 
travelling  journeymen,  and  our  mother,  in  the  grati- 
tude of  her  heart,  threw  them  a  thaler,  and  said : 
"  Drink  to  my  happiness ;  to-day  is  my  birthday." 

When  we  had  rested  and  gone  on  quite  a  dis- 
tance we  found  the  journeymen  ranged  beside  the 
road,  and  as  they  threw  into  the  carriage  an  im- 
mense bouquet  of  field  flowers  which  they  had 
gathered,  one  of  them  exclaimed  :  "  Long  live  the 
birthday-child !  And  health  and  happiness  to  the 
beautiful,  kind  lady !  "  The  others,  and  we,  too, 
joined  with  all  our  might  in  a  "  Hurrah !  " 

We  felt  like  pagan  Romans,  who  on  starting 
out  had  perceived  the  happiest  omens  in  earth  and 
sky. 

And  at  the  Pfaueninsel ! 

Frau  Friedrich,  the  wife  of  the  man  in  charge 
of  the  fountains,  kept  a  neat  inn,  in  which,  how- 
ever, she  by  no  means  dished  up  to  all  persons 
what  they  would  like.  But  our  mother  knew  her 
through  Lenne*,  by  whom  her  husband  was  em- 


A   BERLIN   CHILD.  85 

ployed,  and  she  took  good  care  of  us.  How  at- 
tractive to  us  children  was  the  choice  yet  large 
collection  she  possessed  !  Most  of  the  members  of 
the  royal  house  had  often  been  her  guests,  and  had 
increased  it  to  a  little  museum  which  contained 
countless  milk  and  cream  jugs  of  every  sort  and 
metal,  even  the  most  precious,  and  of  porcelain  and 
glass  of  every  age.  Many  would  have  been  rare 
and  welcome  ornaments  to  any  trades-museum. 
Our  mother  had  contributed  a  remarkably  hand- 
some Japanese  jug  which  her  brother  had  sent  her. 
After  the  banquet  we  young  ones  ran  races, 
while  the  older  people  rested  till  coffee  and  punch 
were  served.  Whether  dancing  was  allowed  at  the 
Pfaueninsel  I  no  longer  remember,  but  at  the  Pich- 
elsbergen  it  certainly  was,  and  there  were  even 
three  musicians  to  play. 

And  how  delightful  it  was  in  the  wood ;  how 
pleasant  the  rowing  on  the  water,  during  which, 
when  the  joy  of  existence  was  at  its  height,  the 
saddest  songs  were  sung!  Oh,  I  could  relate  a 
hundred  things  of  those  birthdays  in  the  country, 
but  I  have  completely  forgotten  how  we  got  home. 
I  only  know  that  we  waked  the  next  morning  full 
of  happy  recollections. 

In  the  summer  holidays  we  often  took  jour- 
neys— generally  to  Dresden,  where  our  father's 
mother  with  her  daughter,  our  aunt  Sophie,  had 
gone  to  live,  the  latter  having  married  Baron 


86  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

Adolf  von  Brandenstein,  an  officer  in  the  Saxon 
Guard,  who,  after  laying  aside  the  bearskin  cap 
and  red  coat,  the  becoming  uniform  of  that  time, 
was  at  the  head  of  the  Dresden  post  office. 

I  remember  these  visits  with  pleasure,  and  the 
days  when  our  grandmother  and  aunt  came  to 
Berlin.  I  was  fond  of  both  of  them,  especially  my 
lively  aunt,  who  was  always  ready  for  a  joke,  and 
my  affection  was  returned.  But  these,  our  nearest 
relatives,  in  early  childhood  only  passed  through 
our  lives  like  brilliant  meteors;  the  visits  we  ex- 
changed lasted  only  a  few  days;  and  when  they 
came  to  Berlin,  in  spite  of  my  mother's  pressing 
invitations,  they  never  stayed  at  our  house,  but  in 
a  hotel.  I  cannot  imagine,  either,  that  our  grand- 
mother would  ever  have  consented  to  visit  any 
one.  There  was  a  peculiar  exclusiveness  about 
her,  I  might  almost  say  a  cool  reserve,  which,  al- 
though proofs  of  her  cordial  love  were  not  want- 
ing, prevented  her  from  caressing  us  or  playing 
with  us  as  grandmothers  do.  She  belonged  to  an- 
other age,  and  our  mother  taught  us,  when  greet- 
ing her,  to  kiss  her  little  white  hand,  which  was 
always  covered  up  to  the  fingers  with  waving  lace, 
and  to  treat  her  with  the  utmost  deference.  There 
was  an  air  of  aristocratic  quiet  in  her  surroundings 
which  caused  a  feeling  of  constraint.  I  can  still 
see  the  suite  of  spacious  rooms  she  occupied,  where 
silence  reigned  except  when  Coco,  the  parrot,  raised 


A  BERLIN   CHILD.  8/ 

his  shrill  voice.  Her  companion,  Fraulein  Raffius, 
always  lowered  her  voice  in  her  presence,  though 
when  out  of  it  she  could  play  with  us  very  merrily. 
The  elderly  servant,  who,  singularly  enough,  was 
of  noble  family — his  real  name  was  Von  Wurmkes- 
sel — did  his  duty  as  noiselessly  as  a  shadow.  Then 
there  was  a  faint  perfume  of  mignonette  in  most  of 
the  rooms,  which  makes  me  think  of  them  when- 
ever I  see  the  pretty  flower,  for,  as  is  well  known, 
smell  is  the  most  powerful  of  all  the  senses  in 
awakening  memory. 

I  never  sat  in  my  grandmother's  lap.  When  we 
wished  to  talk  with  her  we  had  to  sit  beside  her; 
and  if  we  kept  still  she  would  question  us  search- 
ingly  about  everything — our  play,  our  friends,  our 
school. 

This  silence,  which  always  struck  us  children  at 
first  with  astonishment,  was  interrupted  very  gaily 
by  our  aunt,  whose  liveliness  broke  in  upon  it  like 
the  sound  of  a  horn  amid  the  stillness  of  a  forest. 
Her  cheerful  voice  was  audible  even  in  the  hall, 
and  when  she  crossed  the  threshold  we  flew  to  her, 
and  the  spell  was  broken.  For  she,  the  only 
daughter,  put  no  restraint  on  herself  in  the  re- 
served presence  of  her  mother.  She  kissed  her 
boisterously,  asked  how  she  was,  as  if  she  were  the 
mother,  the  other  the  child.  Indeed,  she  took  the 
liberty  sometimes  of  calling  the  old  lady  "  Henri- 
etta " — that  was  her  name — or  even  "  Hetty."  Then, 
7 


88  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

when  grandmother  pointed  to  us  and  exclaimed 
reproachfully,  "Why,  Sophie!"  our  aunt  could  al- 
ways disarm  her  with  gay  jests. 

Though  the  two  were  generally  at  a  distance, 
their  existence  made  itself  felt  again  and  again 
either  through  letters  or  presents  or  by  their  com- 
ing to  Berlin,  which  always  brought  holidays  for  us. 

These  journeys  were  accomplished  under  diffi- 
culties. Our  aunt  had  always  used  an  open  car- 
riage, and  was  really  convinced  that  she  would 
stifle  in  a  closed  railway  compartment.  But  as 
she  would  not  forego  the  benefit  of  rapid  transit, 
our  grandmother  was  obliged,  even  after  her  daugh- 
ter's marriage,  to  hire  an  open  truck  for  her,  on 
which,  with  her  faithful  maid  Minna,  and  one  of 
her  dogs,  or  sometimes  with  her  husband  or  a  friend 
as  a  companion,  she  established  herself  comfort- 
ably in  an  armchair  of  her  own,  with  various  other 
conveniences  about  her.  The  railway  officials  knew 
her,  and  no  doubt  shrugged  their  shoulders,  but  the 
warmheartedness  shining  in  her  eyes  and  her  un- 
varyingcheerfulness  carried  everythingbefore  them, 
so  that  her  eccentricity  was  readily  overlooked.  And 
she  had  plenty  of  similar  caprices.  I  was  visiting 
her  once  in  the  Christmas  holidays,  when  I  was  a 
schoolboy  in  the  upper  class,  and  we  had  retired 
for  the  night.  At  one  o'clock  my  aunt  suddenly 
appeared  at  my  bedside,  waked  me,  and  told  me  to 
get  up.  The  first  snow  had  fallen,  and  she  had 


A    BERLIN   CHILD.  89 

had  the  horses  harnessed  for  us  to  go  sleighing, 
which  she  particularly  enjoyed. 

Resistance  was  useless,  and  the  swift  flight  over 
the  snow  by  moonlight  proved  to  be  very  enjoy- 
able. Between  four  and  five  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing we  were  at  home  again. 

Winter  brought  many  other  amusements.  I  re- 
member with  particular  pleasure  the  Christmas  fair, 
which  now,  as  I  learn  to  my  regret,  is  no  longer 
held.  And  yet,  what  a  source  of  delight  it  once 
was  to  children  !  What  rich  food  it  offered  to  their 
minds  !  The  Christmas  trees  and  pyramids  at  the 
Stechbahn,  the  various  wares,  the  gingerbread  and 
toys  in  the  booths,  offered  by  no  means  the  great- 
est charm.  A  still  stronger  attraction  were  the 
boys  with  the  humming  "  baboons,"  the  rattles  and 
flags,  for  from  them  purchases  had  always  to  be 
made,  with  jokes  thrown  into  the  bargain — bad 
ones,  which  are  invariably  the  most  amusing ;  and 
what  a  pleasure  it  was  to  twirl  the  "  baboon  "  with 
one's  own  little  hand,  and,  if  the  hand  got  cold  dur- 
ing the  process,  one  did  not  feel  it,  for  it  seemed 
like  midsummer  with  a  swarm  of  flies  buzzing  about 
one! 

But  most  enjoyable  of  all  was  probably  the 
throng  of  people,  great  and  small,  and  all  there 
was  to  hear  and  see  among  them  and  to  answer. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  Christmas  joy  of  the  city  was 
concentrated  there,  and  filled  the  not  over-clear 


QO  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE. 

atmosphere  like  the  pungent  odour  of  Christmas 
trees. 

But  there  were  other  things  to  experience  as 
well  as  mere  gaiety — the  pale  child  in  the  corner, 
with  its  little  bare  feet,  holding  in  its  cold,  red 
hands  the  six  little  sheep  of  snow-white  wool 
on  a  tiny  green  board  ;  and  that  other  yonder, 
with  the  little  man  made  of  prunes  spitted  on  tiny 
sticks. 

How  small  and  pale  the  child  is  !  And  how  elo- 
quently the  blue  eyes  invite  a  purchaser,  for  it  is 
only  with  looks  that  the  wares  are  extolled  !  I  still 
see  them  both  before  me !  The  threepenny  pieces 
they  get  are  to  help  their  starving  mother  to  heat 
the  attic  room  in  those  winter  days  which,  cold 
though  they  are,  may  warm  the  heart.  Looking 
at  them  our  mother  told  us  how  hunger  hurts,  and 
how  painful  want  and  misery  are  to  bear,  and  we 
never  left  the  Christmas  fair  without  buying  a  few 
sheep  or  a  prune  man,  though  all  we  could  do  with 
them  was  to  give  them  away  again.  When  I  wrote 
my  fairy-tale,  The  Nuts,  I  had  the  Christmas  fair 
at  Berlin  in  my  mind's  eye,  and  1  seemed  to  see  the 
wretched  little  girl  who,  among  all  the  happy  folk, 
had  found  nothing  but  cold,  pain,  anguish,  and  a 
handful  of  nuts,  and  who  afterward  fared  so  hap- 
pily— not,  indeed,  among  men,  but  with  the  most 
beautiful  angels  in  heaven. 

Why  are  the  Berlin  children  defrauded  of  this 


A    BERLIN    CHILD.  gr 

bright  and  innocent  pleasure,  and  their  hearts  de- 
nied the  practice  of  exercising  charity  ? 

Turning  my  thoughts  backward,  it  seems  to  me 
as  if  almost  too  much  beauty  and  pleasure  were 
crowded  together  at  Christmas,  richly  provided 
with  presents  as  we  were  besides,  for  over  and 
above  the  Christmas  fair  there  was  Kroll's  Christ- 
mas exhibition,  where  clever  heads  and  skilful  hands 
transformed  a  series  of  great  halls,  at  one  time  into 
the  domain  of  winter,  at  another  into  the  kingdom 
of  the  fairies.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  look. 

Imagination  came  to  a  standstill,  for  what  could 
it  add  to  these  wonders  ?  Yet  the  fairyland  of  which 
Ludo  and  I  had  dreamed  was  more  beautiful  and 
more  real  than  this  palpable  magnificence  of  tin 
and  pasteboard ;  which  is,  perhaps,  one  reason  why 
the  overexcited  imagination  of  a  city  child  shrinks 
back  and  tries  to  find  in  reality  what  a  boy  brought 
up  in  the  quiet  of  the  country  can  conjure  up  be- 
fore his  mind  himself. 

Then,  too,  there  were  delightful  sights  in  the 
Gropius  panorama  and  Fuchs's  confectioner's  shop 
— in  the  one  place  entertaining  things,  in  the  other 
instructive.  At  the  panorama  half  the  world  was 
spread  out  before  us  in  splendid  pictures,  so  pre- 
sented and  exhibited  as  to  give  the  most  vivid  im- 
pression of  reality. 

From  the  letters  of  our  mother's  brothers,  who 
were  Dutch  officials  in  Java  and  Japan,  as  well  as 


92 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 


from  books  of  travel  which  had  been  read  to  us, 
we  had  already  heard  much  of  the  wonders  of  the 
Orient;  and  at  the  Gropius  panorama  the  inner 
call  that  I  had  often  seemed  to  hear — "  Away  !  to 
the  East  " — only  grew  the  stronger.  It  has  never 
been  wholly  silent  since,  but  at  that  time  I  formed 
the  resolution  to  sail  around  the  world,  or — prob- 
ably from  reading  some  book — to  be  a  noble  pirate. 
Nor  should  I  have  been  dissatisfied  with  the  fate 
of  Robinson  Crusoe.  The  Christmas  exhibition  at 
Fuchs's,  Unter  den  Linden,  was  merely  entertain- 
ing— Berlin  jokes  in  pictures  mainly  of  a  political 
or  satirical  order.  Most  distinctly  of  all  I  remem- 
ber the  sentimental  lady  of  rank  who  orders  her 
servant  to  catch  a  fly  on  a  tea-tray  and  put  it  care- 
fully out  of  the  window.  The  obedient  Thomas 
gets  hold  of  the  insect,  takes  it  to  the  window,  and 
with  the  remark,  "  Your  ladyship,  it  is  pouring, 
the  poor  thing  might  take  cold,"  brings  it  back 
again  to  the  tea-tray. 

There  was  plenty  of  such  entertainment  in 
winter,  and  we  had  our  part  in  much  of  it.  Rell- 
stab,  the  well-known  editor  of  Voss's  Journal,  made 
a  clever  collection  of  such  jokes  in  his  Christmas 
Wanderings.  We  could  read,  and  whatever  was 
offered  by  that  literary  St.  Nicholas  and  highly  re- 
spected musical  critic  for  cultivated  Berlin  our 
mother  was  quite  willing  we  should  enjoy. 


THE    REVOLUTIONARY    PERIOD. 


93 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    REVOLUTIONARY    PERIOD. 

Before  the  Revolution. 

ON  the  1 8th  of  March,  the  day  of  the  fighting 
in  the  streets  of  Berlin,  we  had  been  living  for 
a  year  in  the  large  suite  of  apartments  at  No.  7 
Linkstrasse. 

Of  those  who  inhabited  the  same  house  with  us 
I  remember  only  the  sculptor  Streichenberg,  whose 
studio  was  next  to  our  pretty  garden,  and  the  Bey- 
ers, a  married  couple.  He,  later  a  general  and  com- 
mander of  the  troops  besieging  Strasburg  in  1870, 
was  at  that  time  a  first  lieutenant.*  She  was  a  re- 
fined, extremely  amiable,  and  very  musical  woman, 
who  had  met  our  mother  before,  and  now  entered 
into  the  friendliest  relations  with  her. 

A  guest  of  their  quiet  household,  a  little  Danish 
girl,  one  of  Frau  Beyer's  relatives,  shared  our  play 
in  the  garden,  and  worked  with  us  at  the  flower- 
beds which  had  been  placed  in  our  charge.  I  re- 
member how  perfectly  charming  I  thought  her,  and 
that  her  name  was  Detta  Losenor. 

*  This  younger  General  Beyer  is  not  to  be  confounded  with 
his  companion-in-arms,  Baeyer,  afterward  in  charge  of  the  meas- 
urement of  the  meridian  for  central  Europe,  whom  I  have  already 
mentioned,  and  whose  wife  was  my  godmother.  He  was  then, 
if  I  am  not  mistaken,  a  colonel  of  staff. 


94 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 


All  the  details  of  our  intercourse  with  her  and 
other  new  acquaintances  who  played  with  us  in  the 
garden  have  vanished  from  my  memory,  for  the  oc- 
currences of  that  time  are  thrown  into  shadow  by 
the  public  events  and  political  excitement  around 
us.  Even  children  could  not  remain  untouched 
by  what  was  impending,  for  all  that  we  saw  or 
heard  referred  to  it  and,  in  our  household,  views 
violently  opposed  to  each  other,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  extreme  republicanism,  were  freely  dis- 
cussed. 

The  majority  of  our  conservative  acquaintances 
were  loud  in  complaint,  and  bewailed  the  king's 
weakness,  and  the  religious  corruption  and  hypo- 
critical aspirations  which  were  aroused  by  the  hon- 
est, but  romantic  and  fanatical  religious  zeal  of 
Frederick  William  IV. 

I  must  have  heard  the  loudest  lamentations  con- 
cerning this  cancer  of  society  at  this  time,  for  they 
are  the  most  deeply  imprinted  in  my  memory. 
Even  such  men  as  the  Gepperts,  Franz  Kugler,  H. 
M.  Romberg,  Drake,  Wilcke,  and  others,  with  whose 
moderate  political  views  I  became  acquainted  later, 
used  to  join  us.  Loyal  they  all  were,  and  our 
mother  was  so  strongly  attached  to  the  house  of 
Hohenzollern  that  1  heard  her  request  one  of  the 
younger  men,  when  he  sharply  declared  it  was  time 
to  force  the  king  to  abdicate,  either  to  moderate 
his  speech  or  cease  to  visit  her  house. 


THE    REVOLUTIONARY    PERIOD. 


95 


Our  mother  could  not  prevent,  however,  similar 
and  worse  speeches  from  coming  to  our  ears. 

A  particularly  deep  impression  was  made  upon 
us  by  a  tall  man  with  a  big  blond  beard,  whose 
name  I  have  forgotten,  but  whom  we  generally 
met  at  the  sculptor  Streichenberg's  when  he  took 
us  with  him  in  our  play  hours  into  his  great  work- 
shop. This  man  appeared  to  be  in  very  good  cir- 
cumstances, for  he  always  wore  patent-leather  boots, 
and  a  large  diamond  ring  on  his  finger ;  bur  with 
his  vivacious,  even  passionate  temperament,  he 
trampled  in  the  dust  the  things  I  had  always  re- 
vered. I  hung  on  his  lips  when  he  talked  of  the 
rights  of  the  people,  and  of  his  own  vocation  to 
break  the  way  for  freedom,  or  when  he  anathema- 
tized those  who  oppressed  a  noble  nation  with  the 
odious  yoke  of  slavery. 

Catch  phrases,  like  "  hanging  the  last  king  with 
the  guts  of  the  last  priest,"  I  heard  for  the  first 
time  from  him,  and  although  such  speeches  did  not 
please  me,  they  made  an  impression  because  they 
awakened  so  much  surprise,  and  more  than  once 
he  called  upon  us  to  be  true  sons  of  our  time  and 
not  a  tyrant's  bondmen.  We  heard  similar  remarks 
elsewhere  in  a  more  moderate  form,  and  from  our 
companions  at  school  in  boyish  language. 

There  were  two  parties  there  also,  but  besides 
loyalty  another  sentiment  flourished  which  would 
now  be  called  chauvinism,  yet  which  possessed  a 


96  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

noble  influence,  since  it  fostered  in  our  hearts  that 
most  beautiful  flower  of  the  young  mind,  enthusi- 
asm for  a  great  cause. 

And  during  the  history  lessons  on  Brandenburg- 
Prussia  our  cheeks  would  glow,  for  what  German 
state  could  boast  a  grander,  prouder  history  than 
Prussia  under  the  Hohenzollerns,  rising  by  ability, 
faithfulness  to  duty,  courage,  and  self-sacrificing 
love  of  country  from  small  beginnings  to  the  high- 
est power  ? 

The  Liebe  school  had  been  attended  only  by 
children  of  good  families,  while  in  the  Schmidt 
school  a  Count  Waldersee  and  Hoym,  the  son  of  a 
capmaker  and  dealer  in  eatables,  sat  together  on 
the  same  bench.  The  most  diverse  tendencies  were 
represented,  and  all  sorts  of  satirical  songs  and  lam- 
poons found  their  way  to  us.  Such  parodies  as  this 
in  the  Song  of  Prussia  we  could  understand  very 
well : 

"  I  am  a  Prussian,  my  colours  you  know, 
From  darkness  to  light  they  boldly  go ; 
But  that  for  Freedom  my  fathers  died, 
Is  a  fact  which  I  have  not  yet  descried." 

Nor  did  more  delicate  allusions  escape  us;  for  who 
had  not  heard,  for  instance,  of  the  Friends  of  Light, 
who  played  a  part  among  the  Berlin  liberals  ?  To 
whose  ears  had  not  come  some  longing  cry  for  free- 
dom, and  especially  freedom  of  the  press  ? 

And  though  that  ever-recurring  word  Pressfrei- 


THE   REVOLUTIONARY   PERIOD. 


97 


heit  (freedom  of  the  press)  was  altered  by  the  wags 
for  us  boys  into  Fressfreiheit  (liberty  to  stuff  your- 
self) ;  though,  too,  it  was  condemned  in  conserva- 
tive circles  as  a  dangerous  demand,  threatening  the 
peace  of  the  family  and  opening  the  door  to  un- 
bridled license  among  writers  for  the  papers,  still 
we  had  heard  the  other  side  of  the  question ;  that 
the  right  freely  to  express  an  opinion  belonged  to 
every  citizen,  and  that  only  through  the  power  of 
free  speech  could  the  way  be  cleared  for  a  better 
condition  of  things.  In  short,  there  was  no  catch- 
word of  that  stormy  period  which  we  ten-and- 
twelve-year-old  boys  could  not  have  interpreted 
at  least  superficially. 

To  me  it  seemed  a  fine  thing  to  be  able  to  say 
what  one  thought  right,  still  I  could  not  understand 
why  such  great  importance  should  be  attributed 
to  freedom  of  the  press.  The  father  of  our  friend 
Bardua  was  entitled  a  counsellor  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  but  then  he  had  also  filled  the  office  of 
a  censor,  and  what  a  nice,  bright  boy  his  son 
was ! 

Among  our  comrades  was  also  the  son  of  Prof. 
Hengstenberg,  who  was  the  head  of  the  pietists 
and  Protestant  zealots,  whom  we  had  heard  men- 
tioned as  the  darkest  of  all  obscurants,  and  his 
influence  over  the  king  execrated.  By  the  cen- 
tral flight  of  steps  at  the  little  terrace  in  front  of 
the  royal  palace  stood  the  fine  statues  of  the  horse- 


98 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 


tamers,  and  the  steps  were  called  Hengstenberg 
(Hengste,  horses,  and  Berg,  mountain).  And  this 
name  was  explained  by  the  circumstance  that  who- 
ever would  approach  the  king  must  do  so  by  the 
way  of  "  Hengstenberg." 

We  knew  that  quip,  too,  and  yet  the  son  of  this 
mischievous  enemy  of  progress  was  a  particularly 
fine,  bright  boy,  whom  we  all  liked,  and  whose 
father,  when  I  saw  him,  astonished  me,  for  he  was 
a  kindly  man  and  could  laugh  as  cheerfully  as  any- 
body. 

It  was  all  very  difficult  to  understand;  and,  as 
we  had  more  friends  among  the  conservatives  than 
among  the  democrats,  we  played  usually  with  the 
former,  and  troubled  ourselves  very  little  about  the 
politics  of  our  friends'  fathers.  There  was,  how- 
ever, some  looking  askance  at  each  other,  and  cries 
of  "  Loyal  Legioner  !  "  "  Pietist !  "  "  Democrat !  " 
"  Friend  of  Light !  "  were  not  wanting. 

As  often  happens  in  the  course  of  history,  un- 
comprehended  or  only  half-comprehended  catch- 
words serve  as  a  banner  around  which  a  great  fol- 
lowing collects. 

The  parties  did  not  come  to  blows,  probably  for 
the  sole  reason  that  we  conservatives  were  by  far 
the  stronger.  Yet  there  was  a  fermentation  among 
us,  and  a  day  came  when,  young  as  I  was,  I  felt 
that  those  who  called  the  king  weak  and  wished  for 
a  change  were  in  the  right. 


THE   REVOLUTIONARY   PERIOD.  99 

In  the  spring  of  1847  every  one  felt  as  if  stand- 
ing on  a  volcano. 

When,  in  1844,  it  was  reported  that  Burgomas- 
ter Tschech  had  fired  at  the  king — I  was  then  seven 
years  old — we  children  shared  the  horror  and  in- 
dignation of  our  mother,  although  in  the  face  of 
such  a  serious  event  we  boys  joined  in  the  silly 
song  which  was  then  in  everybody's  mouth,  and 
which  began  somewhat  in  this  fashion : 

"Was  there  ever  a  man  so  insolent 

As  Tschech,  the  mayor,  on  mischief  bent  ?  " 

What  did  we  not  hear  at  that  time  about  all 
the  hopes  that  had  been  placed  on  the  crown- 
prince,  and  how  ill  he  had  fulfilled  them  as  king  ! 
How  often  I  listened  quietly  in  some  corner  while 
my  mother  discussed  such  topics  with  gentlemen, 
and  from  the  beginning  of  the  year  1847  there  was 
hardly  a  conversation  in  Berlin  which  did  not 
sooner  or  later  touch  upon  politics  and  the  general 
discontent  or  anxiety.  But  I  had  no  need  to  listen 
in  order  to  hear  such  things.  On  every  walk  we 
took  they  were  forced  upon  our  ears ;  the  air  was 
full  of  them,  the  very  stones  repeated  them. 

Even  we  boys  had  heard  of  Johann  Jacoby's 
"  Four  Questions,"  which  declared  a  constitution  a 
necessity. 

I  have  not  forgotten  the  indignation  called 
forth,  even  among  our  acquaintances  of  moderate 
views,  by  Hassenpflug's  promotion  ;  and  if  his  name 


I00  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

had  never  come  to  my  ears  at  home,  the  comic 
papers,  caricatures,  and  the  talk  everywhere  would 
have  acquainted  me  with  the  feelings  awakened 
among  the  people  of  Berlin  by  the  favour  he  en- 
joyed. And  added  to  this  were  a  thousand  little 
features,  anecdotes,  and  events  which  all  pointed  to 
the  universal  discontent. 

The  wars  for  freedom  lay  far  behind  us.  How 
much  had  been  promised  to  the  people  when  the 
foreign  foe  was  to  be  driven  out,  and  how  little 
had  been  granted !  After  the  July  revolution  of 
1830,  many  German  states  had  obtained  a  constitu- 
tion, while  in  Prussia  not  only  did  everything  re- 
main in  the  same  condition,  but  the  shameful  time 
of  the  spying  by  the  agitators  had  begun,  when  so 
many  young  men  who  had  deserved  well  of  their 
country,  like  Ernst  Moriz,  Arndt,  and  Jahn,  distin- 
guished and  honourable  scholars  like  Welcker,  suf- 
fered severely  under  these  odious  persecutions. 
One  must  have  read  the  biography  of  the  honest 
and  laborious  Germanist  Wackernagel  to  be  able 
to  credit  the  fact  that  that  quiet  searcher  after 
knowledge  was  pursued  far  into  middle  life  by  the 
most  bitter  persecution  and  rancorous  injuries,  be- 
cause as  a  schoolboy — whether  in  the  third  or 
fourth  class  I  do  not  know — he  had  written  a  letter 
in  which  was  set  forth  some  new  division,  thought 
out  in  his  childish  brain,  for  the  united  German 
Empire  of  which  he  dreamed. 


THE   REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD.  IQI 

Such  men  as  Kamptz  and  Dambach  kept  their 
places  by  casting  suspicion  upon  others  and  con- 
demning them,  but  they  little  dreamed  when  they 
summoned  before  their  execrable  tribunal  the  in- 
significant student  Fritz  Reuter,  of  Mecklenburg, 
how  he  would  brand  their  system  and  their  names. 
Most  of  these  youths  who  had  been  plunged  into 
misery  by  such  rascally  abuse  of  office  and  the 
shameful  way  in  which  a  king  naturally  anything 
but  malignant,  was  misled  and  deceived,  were 
either  dead  and  gone,  or  had  been  released  from 
prison  as  mature  men.  What  hatred  must  have 
filled  their  souls  for  that  form  of  government  which 
had  dared  thus  to  punish  their  pure  enthusiasm  for 
a  sacred  cause — the  unity  and  well-earned  freedom 
of  their  native  land !  Ah,  there  were  dangerous 
forces  to  subdue  among  those  grey-haired  martyrs, 
for  it  was  their  fiery  spirit  and  high  hearts  which 
had  brought  them  to  ruin. 

Those  who  had  been  disappointed  in  the  results 
of  the  war  for  liberty,  and  those  who  had  suffered 
in  the  demagogue  period,  had  ventured  to  hope 
once  more  when  the  much-extolled  crown-prince, 
Frederick  William  IV,  mounted  the  throne.  What 
disappointment  was  in  store  for  them  ;  what  new 
suffering  was  laid  upon  them  when,  instead  of  the 
rosy  dawn  of  freedom  which  they  fancied  they  had 
seen,  a  deeper  darkness  and  a  more  reckless  op- 
pression set  in  !  What  they  had  taken  for  larks 


102  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

announcing  the  breaking  of  a  brighter  day  turned 
out  to  be  bats  and  similar  vermin  of  the  night.  In 
the  state  the  exercise  of  a  boundless  arbitrary 
power;  in  the  Church,  dark  intolerance;  and,  in  its 
train,  slavish  submission,  favour-seeking,  rolling  up 
of  the  eyes,  and  hypocrisy  as  means  to  unworthy 
ends,  and  especially  to  that  of  speedy  promotion — 
the  deepest  corruption  of  all — that  of  the  soul. 

What  naturally  followed  caused  the  loyalists  the 
keenest  pain,  for  the  injury  done  to  the  strong 
monarchical  feeling  of  the  Prussian  people  in  the 
person  and  the  conduct  of  Frederick  William  IV 
was  not  to  be  estimated.  Only  the  simple  heroic 
greatness  and  the  paternal  dignity  of  an  Emperor 
William  could  have  repaired  it. 

In  the  year  preceding  the  revolution  there  had 
been  a  bad  harvest,  and  frightful  stories  were  told 
of  famine  in  the  weaving  districts  of  Silesia.  Even 
before  Virchow,  in  his  free-spoken  work  on  the 
famine-typhus,  had  faithfully  described  the  full 
misery  of  those  wretched  sufferers,  it  had  become 
apparent  to  the  rulers  in  Berlin  that  something 
must  be  done  to  relieve  the  public  distress. 

The  king  now  began  to  realize  distinctly  the 
universal  discontent,  and  in  order  to  meet  it  and 
still  further  demands  he  summoned  the  General 
Assembly. 

I  remember  distinctly  how  fine  our  mother 
thought  the  speech  with  which  he  opened  that 


THE   REVOLUTIONARY   PERIOD.  IC»3 

precursor  of  the  Prussian  Chambers,  and  the  ad- 
dress showed  him  in  fact  to  be  an  excellent, 
orator. 

To  him,  believing  as  he  did  with  the  most  com- 
plete conviction  in  royalty  by  the  grace  of  God 
and  in  his  calling  by  higher  powers,  any  relinquish- 
ing of  his  prerogative  would  seem  like  a  betrayal 
of  his  divine  mission.  The  expression  he  uttered 
in  the  Assembly  in  the  course  of  his  speech — "  I 
and  my  people  will  serve  the  Lord  " — came  from 
the  very  depths  of  his  heart;  and  nothing  could  be 
more  sincerely  meant  than  the  remark,  "  From  one 
weakness  I  know  myself  to  be  absolutely  free :  I 
do  not  strive  for  vain  public  favour.  My  only  effort 
is  to  do  my  duty  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and 
according  to  my  conscience,  and  to  deserve  the 
gratitude  of  my  people,  though  it  should  be  denied 
me." 

The  last  words  have  a  foreboding  sound,  and 
prove  what  is  indeed  evident  from  many  other  ex- 
pressions— that  he  had  begun  to  experience  in  his 
own  person  the  truth  of  the  remark  he  had  made 
when  full  of  hope,  and  hailed  with  joyful  anticipa- 
tions at  his  coronation — "  The  path  of  a  king  is  full 
of  sorrow,  unless  his  people  stand  by  him  with  loyal 
heart  and  mind." 

His  people  did  not  do  that,  and  it  was  well  for 
them ;  for  the  path  indicated  by  the  royal  hand 
would  have  led  them  to  darkness  and  to  the  indig- 


104  THE  STORY  OF   MY    LIFE. 

nity  of  ever-increasing  bondage,  mental  and  tem- 
poral. 

The  prince  himself  is  entitled  to  the  deepest 
sympathy.  He  wished  to  do  right,  and  was  en- 
dowed with  great  and  noble  gifts  which  would  have 
done  honour  to  a  private  individual,  but  could  not 
suffice  for  the  ruler  of  a  powerful  state  in  difficult 
times. 

Hardly  had  the  king  opened  the  General  As- 
sembly in  April,  1848,  and,  for  the  relief  of  distress 
among  the  poorer  classes  in  the  capital,  repealed 
the  town  dues  on  corn,  when  the  first  actual  evi- 
dences of  discontent  broke  out.  The  town  tax  was 
so  strictly  enforced  at  that  time  at  all  the  gates 
of  Berlin  that  even  hacks  entering  the  city  were 
stopped  and  searched  for  provisions  of  meat  or 
bread — a  search  which  was  usually  conducted  in  a 
cursory  and  courteous  manner. 

In  my  sister  Paula's  journal  I  have  an  almost 
daily  account  of  that  period,  with  frequent  refer- 
ence to  political  events,  but  it  is  not  my  task  to 
write  a  history  of  the  Berlin  revolution. 

Those  of  my  sister's  records  which  refer  to  the 
revolutionary  period  begin  with  a  mention  of  the 
so-called  potato  revolution,*  which  occurred  ten 
days  after  the  opening  of  the  General  Assembly, 
though  it  had  no  connection  with  it. 

*  Excessive  prices  had  been  asked   for  a  peck  of  potatoes, 
which  enraged  the  purchasers,  who  threw  them  into  the  gutter 


THE    REVOLUTIONARY   PERIOD. 


105 


This  riot  took  place  on  the  2ist  of  April,  and 
on  the  2d  of  May  Paula  alludes  to  a  performance 
at  the  opera-house,  which  Ludo  and  I  attended. 
It  was  the  last  appearance  of  Frau  Viardot  Garcia 
as  Iphigenia,  but  I  fear  Paula  is  right  in  saying 
that  the  great  singer  did  her  best  for  an  ungrate- 
ful public,  for  the  attention  of  the  audience  was 
directed  chiefly  to  the  king  and  queen.  The  latter 
appeared  in  the  theatre  for  the  first  time  since  a 
severe  illness,  the  enthusiasm  was  great,  and  there 
was  no  end  to  the  cries  of  "  Long  live  the  king  and 
queen  !  "  which  were  repeated  between  every  act. 

I  relate  the  circumstance  to  show  with  what  a 
devoted  and  faithful  affection  the  people  of  Berlin 
still  clung  to  the  royal  pair.  On  the  other  hand, 
their  regard  for  the  Prince  of  Prussia,  afterward 
Emperor  William,  was  already  shaken.  He  who 
alone  remained  firm  when  all  about  the  king  were 
wavering,  was  regarded  as  the  embodiment  of  mili- 
tary rule,  against  which  a  violent  opposition  was 
rising. 

Our  mother  was  even  then  devoted  to  him  with 
a  reverence  which  bordered  upon  affection,  and  we 
children  with  her. 

We  felt  more  familiar  with  him,  too,  than  with 

and  laid  hands  on  some  of  the  market-women.  The  assembled 
crowd  then  plundered  some  bakers'  and  butchers'  shops,  and  was 
finally  dispersed  by  the  military.  A  certain  Herr  Winckler  is 
said  to  have  lost  his  life.  Many  windows  were  broken,  etc. 


106  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE. 

any  other  members  of  the  ruling  house,  for  Frau- 
lein  Lamperi,  who  was  in  a  measure  like  one  of  our 
own  family,  was  always  relating  the  most  attrac- 
tive stories  about  him  and  his  noble  spouse,  whose 
waiting-woman  she  had  been. 

Of  Frederick  William  IV  it  was  generally  jokes 
that  were  told,  some  of  them  very  witty  ones. 
We  once  came  in  contact  with  him  in  a  singu- 
lar way. 

Our  old  cook,  Frau  Marx,  who  called  herself 
"the  Marxen,"  was  nearly  blind,  and  wished  to  en- 
ter an  institution,  for  which  it  was  necessary  to 
have  his  Majesty's  consent.  Many  years  before, 
when  she  was  living  in  a  count's  family,  she  had 
taught  the  king,  as  a  young  prince,  to  churn,  and 
on  the  strength  of  this  a  petition  was  drawn  up  for 
her  by  my  family.  This  she  handed  into  the  king's 
carriage,  in  the  palace  court-yard,  and  to  his  ques- 
tion who  she  was,  she  replied,  "  Why,  I'm  old 
Marxen,  and  your  Majesty  is  my  last  retreat."* 

This  speech  was  repeated  to  my  mother  by  the 
adjutant  who  came  to  inquire  about  the  petitioner, 
and  he  assured  her  that  his  Majesty  had  been  great- 
ly amused  by  the  old  woman's  singular  choice  of 

*  I  have  been  told  by  a  friend  of  our  family  that  this  story 
has  been  used  by  an  authoress  in  a  tale  for  children.  I  do  not 
know  who  related  it  to  her,  but  it  originated  precisely  as  I  have 
given  it,  in  my  mother's  house.  Our  friend  Anna  Kisting,  who 
assisted  in  preparing  the  petition,  is  still  alive, 


THE   REVOLUTIONARY   PERIOD.  107 

words,  and  had  repeated  it  several  times  to  persons 
about  him.     Her  wish  was  fulfilled  at  once. 

The  memory  of  those  March  days  of  1848  is 
impressed  on  my  soul  in  ineffaceable  characters. 
More  beautiful  weather  I  never  knew.  It  seemed 
as  if  May  had  taken  the  place  of  its  stormy  prede- 
cessor. From  the  i3th  the  sun  shone  constantly 
from  a  cloudless  sky,  and  on  the  i8th  the  fruit-trees 
in  our  garden  were  in  full  bloom.  Whoever  was 
not  kept  in  the  house  by  duty  or  sickness  was 
eager  to  be  out.  The  public  gardens  were  filled 
by  afternoon,  and  whoever  wanted  to  address  the 
people  had  no  need  to  call  an  audience  together 
Whatever  rancour,  indignation,  discontent,  and  sor- 
row had  lurked  under  ground  now  came  forth,  and 
the  buds  of  longing  and  joyful  expectation  hourly 
unfolded  in  greater  strength  and  fuller  bloom. 

The  news  of  the  Paris  revolution,  whose  con- 
firmation had  reached  Berlin  in  the  last  few  days  of 
February,  had  caused  all  this  growth  and  blossom- 
ing like  sunshine  and  warm  rain.  There  was  no 
repressing  it,  and  the  authorities  felt  daily  more 
and  more  that  their  old  measures  of  restraint  were 
failing. 

The  accounts  from  Paris  were  accompanied  by 
report  after  report  from  the  rest  of  Germany,  shak- 
ing the  old  structure  of  absolutism  like  the  re- 
peated shocks  of  a  battering-ram. 

Freedom  of  the  press  was  not  yet  granted,  but 


108  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

tongues  had  begun  to  move  freely — indeed,  often 
without  any  restraint.  As  early  as  the  yth  of 
March,  and  in  bad  weather,  too,  meetings  began  to 
be  held  in  tents.  As  soon  as  the  fine  spring  days 
came  we  found  great  crowds  listening  to  bearded 
orators,  who  told  them  of  the  revolution  in  Paris 
and  of  the  addresses  to  the  king — how  they  had 
passed  hither  and  thither,  and  how  they  had  been 
received.  They  had  all  contained  very  much  the 
same  demands — freedom  of  the  press,  representa- 
tives of  the  people  to  be  chosen  by  free  election, 
all  religious  confessions  to  be  placed  on  an  equal 
footing  in  the  exercise  of  political  rights,  and  rep- 
resentation of  the  people  in  the  German  Confed- 
eracy. 

These  demands  were  discussed  with  fiery  zeal, 
and  the  royal  promise,  just  given,  of  calling  to- 
gether the  Assembly  again  and  issuing  a  law  on  the 
press,  after  the  Confederate  Diet  should  have  been 
moved  to  a  similar  measure,  was  condemned  in 
strong  terms  as  an  insufficient  and  half-way  pro- 
cedure— a  payment  on  account,  in  order  to  gain 
time. 

On  the  i5th  the  particulars  of  the  Vienna  revo- 
lution and  Metternich's  flight  reached  Berlin  ;  and 
we,  too,  learned  the  news,  and  heard  our  mother 
and  her  friends  asking  anxiously,  "  How  will  this 
end  ? " 

Unspeakable  excitement  had  taken   possession 


THE   REVOLUTIONARY   PERIOD. 


109 


of  young  and  old — at  home,  in  the  street,  and  at 
school — for  blood  had  already  flowed  in  the  city. 

On  the  i3th,  cavalry  had  dispersed  a  crowd  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  palace,  and  the  same  thing  was 
repeated  on  the  two  following  days.  Fortunately, 
few  were  injured;  but  rumour,  ever  ready  to  in- 
crease and  enhance  the  horrible  desire  of  many 
fanatics  to  stir  up  the  fire  of  discontent,  had  con- 
spired to  make  wounded  men  dead  ones,  and 
slight  injuries  severe. 

These  exaggerations  ran  through  the  city, 
arousing  indignation ;  and  the  correspondents  of 
foreign  papers,  knowing  that  readers  of  ten  like  best 
what  is  most  incredible,  had  sent  the  accounts  to 
the  provinces  and  foreign  countries. 

But  blood  had  flowed.  Hatred  of  the  soldiery, 
to  which,  however,  some  among  the  insurgents  had 
once  been  proud  to  belong,  grew  with  fateful  ra- 
pidity, and  was  still  further  inflamed  by  those  who 
saw  in  the  military  the  brazen  wall  that  stood  be- 
tween them  and  the  fulfilment  of  their  most  ardent 
wishes. 

A  spark  might  spring  the  open  and  overcharged 
mine  into  the  air;  an  ill-chosen  or  misunderstood 
expression,  a  thoughtless  act,  might  bring  about  an 
explosion. 

The  greatest  danger  threatened  from  fresh  con- 
flicts between  the  army  and  the  people,  and  it  was 
to  the  fear  of  this  that  various  young  or  elderly 


HO  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

gentlemen  owed  their  office  of  going  about  wherever 
a  crowd  was  assembled  and  urging  the  populace 
to  keep  the  peace.  They  were  distinguished  by  a 
white  band  around  the  arm  bearing  the  words, 
"  Commissioner  of  Protection,"  and  a  white  rod  a 
foot  and  a  half  long  designed  to  awaken  the  respect 
accorded  by  the  English  to  their  constables.  We 
recognized  many  well-known  men ;  but  the  Berlin 
populace,  called  by  Goethe  insolent,  is  not  easily 
impressed,  and  we  saw  constables  surrounded  by 
street  boys  like  an  owl  with  a  train  of  little  birds 
fluttering  teasingly  around  it.  Even  grown  persons 
called  them  nicknames  and  jeered  at  their  sticks, 
which  they  styled  "  cues  "  and  "  tooth-picks." 

A  large  number  of  students,  too,  had  expressed 
their  readiness  to  join  this  protective  commission, 
either  as  constables  or  deputies,  and  had  received 
the  wand  and  band  at  the  City  Hall. 

How  painful  the  exercise  of  their  vocation  was 
made  to  them  it  would  be  difficult  to  describe. 

News  from  Austria  and  South  Germany,  where 
the  people's  cause  seemed  to  be  advancing  with 
giant  strides  to  the  desired  goal,  hourly  increased 
the  offensive  strength  of  the  excited  populace. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  i6th  the  Potsdam  Platz, 
only  a  few  hundred  steps  from  our  house,  was  filled 
with  shouting  and  listening  throngs,  crowded 
around  the  sculptor  Streichenberg,  his  blond- 
bearded  friend,  and  other  violently  gesticulating 


THE    REVOLUTIONARY    PERIOD.  uj 

leaders.  This  multitude  received  constant  re-en- 
forcements from  the  city  and  through  Bellevue- 
strasse.  On  the  left,  at  the  end  of  the  beautiful 
street  with  its  rows  of  budding  chestnut-trees,  lay 
"  Kemperhof,"  a  pleasure  resort  where  we  had  of- 
ten listened  to  the  music  of  a  band  clad  in  green 
hunting  costume.  Many  must  have  come  thence, 
for  I  find  that  on  the  i6th  an  assemblage  was  held 
there  from  which  grew  the  far  more  important  one 
on  the  morning  of  the  i7th,  with  its  decisive  con- 
clusion in  Kopenickerstrasse. 

At  this  meeting,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  iyth, 
it  was  decided  to  set  on  foot  a  peaceful  manifesta- 
tion of  the  wishes  of  the  people,  and  a  new  address 
to  the  king  was  drawn  up.  It  was  settled  that  on 
the  aSth  of  March,  at  two  o'clock,  thousands  of 
citizens  with  the  badges  of  the  protective  commis- 
sion should  appear  before  the  palace  and  send  in  a 
deputation  to  his  Majesty  with  a  document  which 
should  clearly  convey  the  principal  requirements  of 
the  people. 

What  they  were  to  represent  to  the  king  as  ur- 
gently necessary  was  :  The  withdrawal  of  the  mili- 
tary force,  the  organization  of  an  armed  citizen 
guard,  the  granting  of  an  unconditional  freedom  of 
the  press,  which  had  been  promised  for  a  lifetime, 
and  the  calling  of  the  General  Assembly. 

I  shall  return  to  the  address  later. 


H2  THE    STORY   OF    MY    LIFE. 

CHAPTER   IX. 

THE    EIGHTEENTH    OF    MARCH. 

THE  i yth  passed  so  quietly  that  hopes  of  a 
peaceable  outcome  of  the  fateful  conflict  began  to 
awake.  My  own  recollections  confirm  this. 

People  believed  so  positively  that  the  difficulty 
would  be  adjusted,  that  in  the  forenoon  of  the  i8th 
my  mother  sent  my  eldest  sister  Martha  to  her 
drawing-lesson,  which  was  given  at  General  Baey- 
er's,  in  the  Friedrichstrasse. 

Ludo  and  I  went  to  school,  and  when  it  was 
over  the  many  joyful  faces  in  the  street  confirmed 
what  we  had  heard  during  the  school  hours. 

The  king  had  granted  the  Constitution  and  the 
"  freedom  of  the  press." 

Crowds  were  collected  in  front  of  the  placards 
which  announced  this  fact,  but  there  was  no  need 
to  force  our  way  through;  their  contents  were  read 
aloud  at  every  corner  and  fountain. 

One  passer-by  repeated  it  to  another,  and  friend 
shouted  to  friend  across  the  street.  "  Have  you 
heard  the  news  ?"  was  the  almost  invariable  ques- 
tion when  people  accosted  one  another,  and  at 
least  one  "  Thank  God !  "  was  contained  in  every 
conversation.  Two  or  three  older  acquaintances 
whom  we  met  charged  us,  in  all  haste,  to  tell  our 


THE   EIGHTEENTH   OF   MARCH.  u^ 

mother ;  but  she  had  heard  it  already,  and  her  joy 
was  so  great  that  she  forgot  to  scold  us  for  staying 
away  so  long.  Fraulein  Lamperi,  on  the  contrary, 
who  dined  with  us,  wept.  She  was  convinced  that 
the  unfortunate  king  had  been  forced  into  some- 
thing which  would  bring  ruin  both  to  him  and  his 
subjects.  "  His  poor  Majesty  !  "  she  sobbed  in  the 
midst  of  our  joy. 

Our  mother  loved  the  king  too,  but  she  was  a 
daughter  of  the  free  Netherlands ;  two  of  her 
brothers  and  sisters  lived  in  England;  and  the 
friends  she  most  valued,  whom  she  knew  to  be 
warmly  and  faithfully  attached  to  the  house  of 
Hohenzollern,  thought  it  high  time  that  the  Prus- 
sian people  attained  the  majority  to  which  that  day 
had  brought  them.  Moreover,  her  active  mind 
knew  no  rest  till  it  had  won  a  clear  insight  into 
questions  concerning  the  times  and  herself.  So 
she  had  reached  the  conviction  that  no  peace  be- 
tween king  and  people  could  be  expected  unless  a 
constitution  was  granted.  In  Parliament  she  would 
have  sat  on  the  right,  but  that  her  adopted  country 
should  have  a  Parliament  filled  her  with  joyful 
pride. 

Ludo  and  I  were  very  gay.  It  was  Saturday, 
and  towards  evening  we  were  going  to  a  children's 
ball  given  by  Privy-Councillor  Romberg — the  spe- 
cialist for  nervous  diseases — for  his  daughter  Ma- 
rie, for  which  new  blue  jackets  had  been  made. 


114 


THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 


We  were  eagerly  expecting  them,  and  about  three 
o'clock  the  tailor  came. 

Our  mother  was  present  when  he  tried  them  on, 
and  when  she  remarked  that  now  all  was  well,  the 
man  shook  his  head,  and  declared  that  the  conces- 
sions of  the  forenoon  had  had  no  other  object  than 
to  befool  the  people ;  that  would  appear  before 
long. 

While  I  write,  it  seems  as  if  I  saw  again  that 
poor  little  bearer  of  the  first  evil  tidings,  and  heard 
once  more  the  first  shots  which  interrupted  his 
prophecy  with  eloquent  confirmation. 

Our  mother  turned  pale. 

The  tailor  folded  up  his  cloth  and  hurried  away. 

What  did  his  words  mean,  and  what  was  the  fir- 
ing outside  ? 

We  strained  our  ears  to  listen.  The  noise 
seemed  to  grow  louder  and  come  nearer;  and,  just 
as  our  mother  cried,  "For  Heaven's  sake,  Mar- 
tha!" the  cook  burst  into  the  room,  exclaiming, 
"  The  row  began  in  the  Schlossplatz  !  " 

Fraulein  Lamperi  shrieked,  seized  her  bonnet 
and  cloak,  and  the  pompadour  which  she  took  with 
her  everywhere,  to  hurry  home  as  fast  as  she 
could. 

Our  mother  could  think  only  of  Martha.  She 
had  dined  at  the  Baeyers'  and  was  now  perhaps 
on  the  way  home.  Somebody  must  be  sent  to  meet 
her.  But  of  what  use  would  be  the  escort  of  a 


THE   EIGHTEENTH   OF   MARCH.  ug 

maid ;  and  Kurschner  was  gone,  and  the  porter  not 
to  be  found ! 

The  cook  was  sent  in  one  direction,  the  cham- 
bermaid in  another,  to  seek  a  male  escort  for 
Martha. 

And  then  there  was  Frau  Lieutenant  Beyer,  our 
neighbour  in  the  house,  whose  husband  was  on 
the  general  staff,  asking:  "How  is  it  possible? 
Everything  was  granted !  What  can  have  hap- 
pened ?  " 

The  answer  was  a  rattle  of  musketry.  We 
leaned  out  of  the  window,  from  which  we  could  see 
as  far  as  Potsdamstrasse.  What  a  rush  there  was 
towards  the  gate  !  Three  or  four  men  dashed  down 
the  middle  of  the  quiet  street.  The  tall,  bearded 
fellow  at  the  head  we  knew  well.  It  was  the  up- 
holsterer Specht,  who  had  often  put  up  curtains 
and  done  similar  work  for  us,  a  good  and  capable 
workman. 

But  what  a  change  !  Instead  of  a  neat  little 
hammer,  he  was  flourishing  an  axe,  and  he  and  his 
companions  looked  as  furious  as  if  they  were  go- 
ing to  revenge  some  terrible  injury. 

He  caught  sight  of  us,  and  I  remember  dis- 
tinctly the  whites  of  his  rolling  eyes  as  he  raised 
his  axe  higher,  and  shouted  hoarsely,  and  as  if  the 
threat  was  meant  for  us : 

"  They  shall  get  it !  " 

Our  mother  and  Frau  Beyer  had  seen  and  heard 


Il6  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

him  too,  and  the  firing  in  the  direction  of  which 
the  upholsterer  and  his  companions  were  running 
was  very  near. 

The  fight  must  already  be  raging  in  Leipziger- 
strasse. 

At  last  the  porter  came  back  and  announced 
that  barricades  had  been  built  at  the  corner  of 
Mauer-  and  Friedrichstrasse,  and  that  a  violent 
conflict  had  broken  out  there  and  in  other  places 
between  the  soldiers  and  the  citizens.  And  our 
Martha  was  in  Friedrichstrasse,  and  did  not  come. 
We  lived  beyond  the  gate,  and  it  was  not  to  be  ex- 
pected that  fighting  would  break  out  in  our  neigh- 
bourhood ;  but  back  of  our  gardens,  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  the  Potsdam  railway  station,  the  beating  of 
drums  was  heard.  The  firing,  however,  which  be- 
came more  and  more  violent,  was  louder  than  any 
other  noise;  and  when  we  saw  our  mother  wild 
with  anxiety,  we,  too,  began  to  be  alarmed  for  our 
dear,  sweet  Martha. 

It  was  already  dark,  and  still  we  waited  in 
vain. 

At  last  some  one  rang.  Our  mother  hurried  to 
the  door — a  thing  she  never  did. 

When  we,  too,  ran  into  the  hall,  she  had  her 
arms  around  the  child  who  had  incurred  such  dan- 
ger, and  we  little  ones  kissed  her  also,  and  Martha 
looked  especially  pretty  in  her  happy  astonish- 
ment at  such  a  reception. 


THE    EIGHTEENTH   OF    MARCH. 


117 


She,  too,  had  been  anxious  enough  while  good 
Heinrich,  General  Baeyer's  servant,  who  had  been 
his  faithful  comrade  in  arms  from  1813  to  1815, 
brought  her  home  through  all  sorts  of  by-ways.  But 
they  had  been  obliged  in  various  places  to  pass 
near  where  the  fighting  was  going  on,  and  the  ten- 
der-hearted seventeen-year-old  girl  had  seen  such 
terrible  things  that  she  burst  into  tears  as  she  de- 
scribed them. 

For  us  the  worst  anxiety  was  over,  and  our 
mother  recovered  her  composure.  It  was  perhaps 
advisable  for  her,  a  defenceless  widow,  to  leave 
the  city,  which  might  on  the  morrow  be  given  over 
to  the  unbridled  will  of  insurgents  or  of  soldiers 
intoxicated  with  victory.  So  she  determined  to 
make  all  preparations  for  going  with  us  to  our 
grandmother  in  Dresden. 

Meanwhile  the  fighting  in  the  streets  seemed 
to  have  increased  in  certain  places  to  a  battle,  for 
the  crash  of  the  artillery  grapeshot  was  constantly 
intermingled  with  the  crackling  of  the  infantry 
fire,  and  through  it  all  the  bells  were  sounding  the 
tocsin,  a  wailing,  warning  sound,  which  stirred  the 
inmost  heart. 

It  was  a  fearful  din,  rattling  and  thundering 
and  ringing,  while  the  sky  emulated  the  blood- 
soaked  earth  and  glowed  in  fiery  red.  It  was  said 
that  the  royal  iron  foundry  was  in  flames. 

At  last  the  hour  of  bedtime  came,  and  I  still  re- 


Il8  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

member  how  our  mother  told  us  to  pray  for  the 
king  and  those  poor  people  who,  in  order  to  attain 
something  we  could  not  understand,  were  in  such 
great  peril. 


CHAPTER    X. 

AFTER    THE    NIGHT    OF    REVOLUTION. 

WHEN  we  rose  the  next  morning  the  firing  was 
over.  It  was  said  that  all  was  quiet,  and  we  had 
the  well-known  proclamation,  "  To  my  dear  peo- 
ple of  Berlin."  The  horrors  of  the  past  night  ap- 
peared, indeed,  to  have  been  the  result  of  an  un- 
fortunate mistake.  The  king  himself  explained 
that  the  two  shots  by  the  troops,  which  had  been 
taken  for  the  signal  to  attack  the  people,  were  from 
muskets  which  had  gone  off  by  some  unlucky  acci- 
dent— "thank  God,  without  injuring  any  one." 

He  closed  with  the  words :  "  Listen  to  the  pa- 
ternal voice  of  your  king,  residents  of  my  loyal 
and  beautiful  Berlin  ;  forget  what  has  occurred,  as  I 
will  forget  it  with  all  my  heart,  for  the  sake  of  the 
great  future  which,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  will 
dawn  for  Prussia,  and,  through  Prussia,  for  Germa- 
ny. Your  affectionate  queen  and  faithful  mother, 
who  is  very  ill,  joins  her  heart-felt  and  tearful  en- 
treaties to  mine." 

The  king  also  pledged  his  royal  word  that  the 


AFTER   THE   NIGHT   OF    REVOLUTION,     ug 

troops  would  be  withdrawn  as  soon  as  the  Berlin 
people  were  ready  for  peace  and  removed  the  bar- 
ricades. 

So  peace  seemed  restored,  for  there  had  been 
no  fighting  for  hours,  and  we  heard  that  the  troops 
were  already  withdrawing. 

Our  departure  for  Dresden  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion— railway  communication  had  ceased.  The 
bells  which  had  sounded  the  tocsin  all  night  with 
their  brazen  tongues  seemed,  after  such  furious 
exertion,  to  have  no  strength  for  summoning  wor- 
shippers to  church.  All  the  houses  of  God  were 
closed  that  Sunday. 

Our  longing  to  get  out  of  doors  grew  to  impa- 
tience, which  was  destined  to  be  satisfied,  for  our 
mother  had  a  violent  headache,  and  we  were  sent 
to  get  her  usual  medicine.  We  reached  the  Ring 
pharmacy — a  little  house  in  the  Potsdam  Platz  oc- 
cupied by  the  well-known  writer,  Max  Ring — in  a 
very  few  minutes.  We  performed  our  errand  with 
the  utmost  care,  gave  the  medicine  to  the  cook  on 
our  return,  and  hurried  off  into  the  city. 

When  we  had  left  the  Mauer-  and  Friedrich- 
strasse  behind,  our  hearts  began  to  beat  faster, 
and  what  we  saw  on  the  rest  of  the  way  through 
the  longest  street  of  Berlin  as  far  as  the  Linden 
was  of  such  a  nature  that  the  mere  thought  of  it 
awakens  in  me  to  this  day  an  ardent  hope  that  I 
may  never  witness  such  sights  again. 
9 


120  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

Rage,  hate,  and  destruction  had  celebrated  the 
maddest  orgies  on  our  path,  and  Death,  with  pas- 
sionate vehemence,  had  swung  his  sharpest  scythe. 
Wild  savagery  and  merciless  destruction  had  blend- 
ed with  the  shrewdest  deliberation  and  skillful 
knowledge  in  constructing  the  bars  which  the  Ger- 
man, avoiding  his  own  good  familiar  word,  called 
barricades.  An  elderly  gentleman  who  was  ex- 
plaining their  construction,  pointed  out  to  us  the 
ingenuity  with  which  some  of  the  barricades  had 
been  strengthened  for  defence  on  the  one  side,  and 
left  comparatively  weak  on  the  other.  Every  trench 
dug  where  the  paving  was  torn  up  had  its  object, 
and  each  heap  of  stones  its  particular  design. 

But  the  ordinary  spectator  needed  a  guide  to 
recognize  this.  At  the  first  sight,  his  attention 
was  claimed  by  the  confused  medley  and  the 
many  heart-rending  signs  of  the  horrors  practised 
by  man  on  man. 

Here  was  a  pool  of  blood,  there  a  bearded 
corpse ;  here  a  blood-stained  weapon,  there  another 
blackened  with  powder.  Like  a  caldron  where  a 
witch  mixes  all  manner  of  strange  things  for  a 
philter,  each  barricade  consisted  of  every  sort  of 
rubbish,  together  with  objects  originally  useful. 
All  kinds  of  overturned  vehicles,  from  an  omnibus 
to  a  perambulator,  from  a  carriage  to  a  hand-cart, 
were  everywhere  to  be  found.  Wardrobes,  com- 
modes, chairs,  boards,  laths,  bookshelves,  bath- 


AFTER    THE    NIGHT   OF    REVOLUTION.     121 

tubs  and  washtubs,  iron  and  wooden  pipes,  were 
piled  together,  and  the  interstices  filled  with  sacks 
of  straw  and  rags,  mattresses,  and  carriage  cush- 
ions. Whence  came  the  planks  yonder,  if  they 
were  not  stripped  from  the  floor  of  some  room  ? 
Children  and  promenaders  had  sat  only  yesterday 
on  those  benches  and,  the  night  before  that,  oil 
lamps  or  gas  flames  had  burned  on  those  lamp-posts. 
The  sign-boards  on  top  had  invited  customers  into 
shop  or  inn,  and  the  roll  of  carpet  beneath  was 
perhaps  to  have  covered  some  floor  to-morrow. 
Oleander  shrubs,  which  I  was  to  see  later  in  rocky 
vales  of  Greece  or  Algeria,  had  possibly  been  put 
out  here  only  the  day  before  into  the  spring  sun- 
shine. The  warehouses  of  the  capital  no  doubt 
contained  everything  that  could  be  needed,  no 
matter  how  or  when,  but  Berlin  seemed  to  me  too 
small  for  all  the  trash  that  was  dragged  out  of  the 
houses  in  that  March  night. 

Bloody  and  terrible  pictures  rose  before  our 
minds,  and  perhaps  there  was  no  need  of  Assessor 
Geppert's  calling  to  us  sternly,  "  Off  home  with 
you,  boys  !  "  to  turn  our  feet  in  that  direction. 

So  home  we  ran,  but  stopped  once,  for  at  a 
fountain,  either  in  Leipzigstrasse  or  Potsdam- 
strasse,  a  ball  from  the  artillery  had  struck  in  the 
wood-work,  and  around  it  a  firm  hand  had  written 
with  chalk  in  a  semicircle,  "  To  MY  DEAR  PEOPLE 
OF  BERLIN."  On  the  lower  part  of  the  fountain 


122  THE    STORY   OF    MY    LIFE. 

the  king's  proclamation  to  the  citizens,  with  the 
same  heading,  was  posted  up. 

What  a  criticism  upon  it ! 

The  address  set  forth  that  a  band  of  miscreants, 
principally  foreigners,  had  by  patent  falsehood 
turned  the  affair  in  the  Schlossplatz  to  the  further- 
ance of  their  evil  designs,  and  filled  the  heated 
minds  of  his  dear  and  faithful  people  of  Berlin 
with  thoughts  of  vengeance  for  blood  which  was 
supposed  to  have  been  spilled.  Thus  they  had  be- 
come the  abominable  authors  of  actual  bloodshed. 

The  king  really  believed  in  this  "  band  of  mis- 
creants," and  attributed  the  revolution,  which  he 
called  a  coup  montc  (premeditated  affair),  to  those 
wretches.  His  letters  to  Bunsen  are  proof  of  it. 

Among  those  who  read  his  address,  "  To  my 
Dear  People  of  Berlin,"  there  were  many  who  were 
wiser.  There  had  really  been  no  need  of  foreign 
agitators  to  make  them  take  up  arms. 

On  the  morning  of  the  i8th  their  rejoicing  and 
cheering  came  from  full  hearts,  but  when  they  saw 
or  learned  that  the  crowd  had  been  fired  into  on 
the  Schlossplatz,  their  already  heated  blood  boiled 
over  ;  the  people  so  long  cheated  of  their  rights, 
who  had  been  put  off  when  half  the  rest  of  Ger- 
many had  their  demands  fulfilled,  could  bear  it  no 
longer. 

I  must  remind  myself  again  that  I  am  not  writ- 
ing a  history  of  the  Berlin  revolution.  Nor  would 


AFTER  THE  NIGHT  OF  REVOLUTION. 


123 


my  own  youthful  impressions  justify  me  in  form- 
ing an  independent  opinion  as  to  the  motives  of 
that  remarkable  and  somewhat  incomprehensible 
event ;  but,  with  the  assistance  of  friends  more  in- 
timately acquainted  with  the  circumstances,  I  have 
of  late  obtained  a  not  wholly  superficial  knowl- 
edge of  them,  which,  with  my  own  recollections, 
leads  me  to  adopt  the  opinion  of  Heinrich  von 
Sybel  concerning  the  much  discussed  and  still  un- 
answered question,  whether  the  Berlin  revolution 
was  the  result  of  a  long-prepared  conspiracy  or  the 
spontaneous  outburst  of  enthusiasm  for  liberty 
among  the  citizens.  He  says  :  "  Both  these  views 
are  equally  well  founded,  for  only  the  united  effort 
of  the  two  forces  could  insure  a  possibility  of  vic- 
tory." 

Here  again  the  great  historian  has  found  the 
true  solution.  It  was  for  the  interest  of  the  Poles, 
the  French,  and  other  revolutionary  spirits,  to  bring 
about  a  bloody  conflict  in  Berlin,  and  there  were 
many  of  them  in  the  capital  that  spring,  among 
whom  must  have  been  men  who  knew  how  to  build 
barricades  and  organize  revolts;  and  it  can  hardly 
be  doubted  that,  at  the  decisive  moment,  they  tried 
to  enhance  the  vengefulness  and  combativeness  of 
the  people  by  strong  drink  and  fiery  speeches,  per- 
haps, in  regard  to  the  dregs  of  the  populace,  by 
money.  There  is  weighty  evidence  in  support  of 
this.  But  it  is  still  more  certain — and,  though  I 


124  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

was  but  eleven  years  old  and  brought  up  in  a  loyal 
atmosphere,  I,  too,  felt  and  experienced  it — that 
before  the  i8th  of  March  the  general  discontent 
was  at  the  highest  point.  There  was  no  control- 
ling it. 

If  the  chief  of  police,  Von  Minutoli,  asserts  that 
he  knew  beforehand  the  hour  when  the  revolution 
was  to  break  out,  this  is  no  special  evidence  of  fore- 
sight ;  for  the  first  threat  the  citizens  had  ventured 
to  utter  against  the  king  was  in  the  address  drawn 
up  at  the  sitting  of  the  popular  assembly  in  Kope- 
nickstrasse,  and  couched  in  the  following  terms: 
"  If  this  is  granted  us,  and  granted  at  once,  then  we 
will  guarantee  a  genuine  peace."  To  finish  the 
proposition  with  a  statement  of  what  would  occur 
in  the  opposite  case,  was  left  to  his  Majesty ;  the 
assembly  had  simply  decided  that  the  "  peaceful 
demonstration  of  the  wishes  of  the  people  "  should 
take  place  on  the  i8th,  at  two  o'clock,  several 
thousand  citizens  taking  part  in  it.  While  the 
address  was  handed  in,  and  until  the  reply  was  re- 
ceived, the  ambassadors  of  the  people  were  to  re- 
main quietly  assembled  in  the  Schlossplatz.  What 
was  to  happen  in  case  the  above-mentioned  de- 
mands were  not  granted  is  nowhere  set  down,  but 
there  is  little  doubt  that  many  of  those  present  in- 
tended to  trust  to  the  fortune  of  arms.  The  ad- 
dress contained  an  ultimatum,  and  Brass  is  right 
in  calling  it,  and  the  meeting  in  which  it  originated, 


AFTER  THE  NIGHT  OF  REVOLUTION. 


125 


the  starting  point  of  the  revolution.  Whoever  had 
considered  the  matter  attentively  might  easily 
say,  "  On  the  i8th,  at  two  o'clock,  it  will  be  de- 
cided either  so  or  so."  The  king  had  come  to  his 
determination  earlier  than  that.  Sybel  puts  it  be- 
yond question  that  he  had  been  forced  to  it  by  the 
situation  in  Europe,  not  by  threats  or  the  compul- 
sion of  a  conflict  in  the  streets.  Nevertheless  it 
came  to  a  street  fight,  for  the  enemies  of  order 
were  skillful  enough  to  start  a  fresh  conflagration 
with  the  charred  beams  of  the  house  whose  fire 
had  been  put  out.  But  all  their  efforts  would  have 
been  in  vain  had  not  the  conduct  of  the  Govern- 
ment, and  the  events  of  the  last  few  days,  paved 
the  way. 

Among  my  mother's  conservative  friends,  and 
in  her  own  mind,  there  was  a  strong  belief  that  the 
fighting  in  Berlin  had  broken  out  in  consequence 
of  long-continued  stirring  of  the  people  by  foreign 
agitators  ;  but  I  can  affirm  that  in  my  later  life, 
before  I  began  to  reflect  particularly  on  the  sub- 
ject, it  always  seemed  to  me,  when  I  recalled  the 
time  which  preceded  the  :8th  of  March,  as  if  exist- 
ing circumstances  must  have  led  to  the  expecta- 
tion of  an  outbreak  at  any  moment. 

It  is  difficult  in  these  days  to  form  an  idea  of 
the  sharp  divisions  which  succeeded  the  night  of 
the  revolution  in  Berlin,  just  as  one  can  hardly 
conceive  now,  even  in  court  circles,  of  the  whole 


126  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

extent  and  enthusiastic  strength  of  the  sentiment 
of  Prussian  loyalty  at  that  time.  These  opposite 
principles  separated  friends,  estranged  families  long 
united  in  love,  and  made  themselves  felt  even  in 
the  Schmidt  school  during  the  short  time  that  we 
continued  to  go  there. 

Our  bold  excursion  over  the  barricades  was  un- 
punished, so  far  as  I  remember.  Perhaps  it  was 
not  even  noticed,  for  our  mother,  in  spite  of  her 
violent  headache,  had  to  make  preparations  for  the 
illumination  of  our  tolerably  long  row  of  windows. 
Not  to  have  lighted  the  house  would  have  imper- 
illed the  window-panes.  To  my  regret,  we  were  not 
allowed  to  see  the  illumination.  I  have  since 
thought  it  a  peculiarly  amusing  trick  of  fate  that 
the  palace  of  the  Russian  embassy — the  property 
of  the  autocrat  Nicholas — was  obliged  to  celebrate 
with  a  brilliant  display  of  lights  the  movement  for 
liberty  in  a  sister  country. 

On  Monday,  the  aoth,  we  were  sent  to  school, 
but  it  was  closed,  and  we  took  advantage  of  the 
circumstance  to  get  into  the  heart  of  the  city.  The 
appearance  of  the  town-hall  peppered  with  balls 
I  have  never  forgotten.  Most  of  the  barricades 
were  cleared  away  ;  instead,  there  were  singular  in- 
scriptions in  chalk  on  the  doors  of  various  public 
buildings. 

At  the  beginning  of  Leipzigstrasse,  at  the  main 
entrance  of  the  Ministry  of  War,  we  read  the 


AFTER   THE   NIGHT   OF   REVOLUTION. 


127 


words,  "  National  Property."  Elsewhere,  and  par- 
ticularly at  the  palace  of  the  Prince  of  Prussia,  was 
"  Property  of  the  citizens  "  or  "  Property  of  the 
entire  Nation."* 

An  excited  throng  had  gathered  in  front  of  the 
plain  and  simple  palace  to  whose  high  ground- 
floor  windows  troops  of  loyal  and  grateful  Ger- 
mans have  often  looked  up  with  love  and  admira- 
tion to  see  the  beloved  countenance  of  the  grey- 
haired  imperial  hero.  That  day  we  stood  among 
the  crowd  and  listened  to  the  speech  of  a  student, 
who  addressed  us  from  the  great  balcony  amid  a 
storm  of  applause.  Whether  it  was  the  same  hon- 
est fellow  who  besought  the  people  to  desist  from 
their  design  of  burning  the  prince's  palace  be- 
cause the  library  would  be  imperilled,  I  do  not 
know,  but  the  answer,  "  Leave  the  poor  boys  their 
books,"  is  authentic. 

And  it  is  also  true,  unhappily,  that  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  save  from  destruction  the  house  of  the  man 
whose  Hohenzollern  blood  asserted  itself  justly 
against  the  weakness  of  his  royal  brother.  Through 
those  days  of  terror  he  was  what  he  always  had 
been  and  would  remain,  an  upright  man  and  soldier, 
in  the  highest  and  noblest  meaning  of  the  words. 

*  So  Wolff  writes.  But  the  expression  "  National  Proper- 
ty "  is  so  firmly  impressed  on  my  mind  that  it  must  have  been 
on  many  public  buildings,  and  I  think  also  on  the  palace  of  the 
man  who  was  afterward  Emperor  William. 


128  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

What  we  saw  and  heard  in  the  palace  and  its 
courts,  swarming  with  citizens  and  students,  was 
so  low  and  revolting  that  I  dislike  to  think  of  it. 

Some  of  the  lifeless  heroes  were  just  being 
borne  past  on  litters,  greeted  by  the  wine-flushed 
faces  of  armed  students  and  citizens.  The  teach- 
ers who  had  overtaken  us  on  the  way  recognized 
among  them  college  friends  who  praised  the  deli- 
cious vintage  supplied  by  the  palace  guards. 

My  brother  and  I  were  also  fated  to  see  Fred- 
erick William  IV.  ride  down  the  Behrenstrasse  and 
the  Unter  den  Linden  with  a  large  black,  red,  and 
yellow  band  around  his  arm. 

The  burial  of  those  who  had  fallen  during  the 
night  of  the  revolution  was  one  of  the  most  impos- 
ing ceremonies  ever  witnessed  in  Berlin.  We  boys 
were  permitted  to  look  at  it  only  for  a  short  time, 
yet  the  whole  impression  of  the  procession,  which 
we  really  ought  not  to  have  been  allowed  to  see, 
has  lingered  in  my  memory. 

It  was  wonderful  weather,  as  warm  as  summer, 
and  the  vast  escort  which  accompanied  the  two 
hundred  coffins  of  the  champions  of  freedom  to 
their  last  resting-place  seemed  endless.  We  were 
forbidden  to  go  on  the  platform  in  front  of  the 
Neuen  Kirche  where  they  were  placed,  but  the 
spectacle  must  have  produced  a  strange  yet  deeply 
pathetic  impression. 

Pastor  Sydow,  who  represented  the  Protestant 


AFTER  THE  NIGHT  OF  REVOLUTION. 


129 


clergy  as  the  Prelate  Roland  did  the  Catholics,  and 
the  Rabbi  Dr.  Sachs  the  Jews,  afterwards  told  me 
that  the  multitude  of  coffins,  adorned  with  the 
rarest  flowers  and  lavishly  draped  with  black,  pre- 
sented an  image  of  mournful  splendour  never  to 
be  forgotten,  and  I  can  easily  believe  it. 

This  funeral  remains  in  my  memory  as  an  end- 
less line  of  coffins  and  black-garbed  men  with  ban- 
ners and  hats  bound  with  crape,  bearing  flowers, 
emblems  of  guilds,  and  trade  symbols.  Mounted 
standard  bearers,  gentlemen  in  robes — the  profes- 
sors of  the  university  —  and  students  in  holi- 
day attire,  mingled  in  the  motley  yet  solemn 
train. 

How  many  tears  were  shed  over  those  coffins 
which  contained  the  earthly  remains  of  many  a 
young  life  once  rich  in  hopes  and  glowing  with 
warm  enthusiasm,  many  a  quiet  heart  which  had 
throbbed  joyously  for  man's  noblest  possession  ! 

The  interment  in  the  Friedrichshain,  where  four 
hundred  singers  raised  their  voices,  and  a  band  of 
music  composed  of  the  hautboy  players  of  many 
regiments  poured  mighty  volumes  of  sound  over 
the  open  graves  of  the  dead,  must  have  been  alike 
dignified  and  majestic. 

But  the  opposition  between  the  contending  par- 
ties was  still  too  great,  and  the  demand  upon  the 
king  to  salute  the  dead  had  aroused  such  anger  in 
my  mother's  circle,  that  she  kept  aloof  from  these 


130  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

magnificent  and  in  themselves  perfectly  justifiable 
funeral  obsequies.  It  seemed  almost  unendurable 
that  the  king  had  constrained  himself  to  stand  on 
the  balcony  of  the  palace  with  his  head  bared,  hold- 
ing his  helmet  in  his  hand,  while  the  procession 
passed. 

The  effect  of  this  act  upon  the  loyal  citizens  of 
Berlin  can  scarcely  be  described.  I  have  seen  men 
— even  our  humble  Kiirschner — weep  during  the 
account  of  it  by  eye-witnesses. 

Whoever  knew  Frederick  William  IV.  also  knew 
that  rjeither  genuine  reconciliation  nor  respect  for 
the  fallen  champions  of  liberty  induced  him  to 
show  this  outward  token  of  respect,  which  was  to 
him  the  deepest  humiliation. 

The  insincerity  of  the  sovereign's  agreement 
with  the  ideas,  events,  and  men  of  his  day  was  evi- 
dent in  the  reaction  which  appeared  only  too  soon. 
His  conviction  showed  itself  under  different  forms, 
but  remained  unchanged,  both  in  political  and  re- 
ligious affairs. 

During  the  interval  life  had  assumed  a  new 
aspect.  The  minority  had  become  the  majority, 
and  many  a  son  of  a  strictly  conservative  man  was 
forbidden  to  oppose  the  "  red."  Only  no  one 
needed  to  conceal  his  loyalty  to  the  king,  for  at 
that  time  the  democrats  still  shared  it.  A  good 
word  for  the  Prince  of  Prussia,  on  the  contrary, 
inevitably  led  to  a  brawl,  but  we  did  not  shrink 


AFTER   THE   NIGHT   OF   REVOLUTION.     131 

from  it,  and,  thank  Heaven,  we  were  among  the 
strongest  boys. 

This  intrusion  of  politics  into  the  school-room 
and  the  whole  tense  life  of  the  capital  was  ex- 
tremely undesirable,  and,  if  continued,  could  not 
fail  to  have  an  injurious  influence  upon  immature 
lads ;  so  my  mother  hastily  decided  that,  instead 
of  waiting  until  the  next  year,  we  should  go  to 
Keilhau  at  once. 

She  has  often  said  that  this  was  the  most  diffi- 
cult resolve  of  her  life,  but  it  was  also  one  of  the 
best,  since  it  removed  us  from  the  motley,  confus- 
ing impressions  of  the  city,  and  the  petting  we 
received  at  home,  and  transferred  us  to  the  sur- 
roundings most  suitable  for  boys  of  our  age. 

The  first  of  the  greater  divisions  of  my  life 
closes  with  the  Easter  which  follows  the  Berlin 
revolution  of  March,  1848. 

Not  until  I  attained  years  of  maturity  did  I  per- 
ceive that  these  conflicts,  which,  long  after,  I  heard 
execrated  in  certain  quarters  as  a  blot  upon  Prus- 
sian history,  rather  deserved  the  warmest  gratitude 
of  the  nation.  During  those  beautiful  spring  days, 
no  matter  by  what  hands — among  thep  were  the 
noblest  and  purest — were  sown  the  seeds  of  the 
dignity  and  freedom  of  public  life  which  we  now 
enjoy. 

The  words  "  March  conquests  "  have  been  ut- 
tered by  jeering  lips,  but  I  think  at  the  present 


132  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

time  there  are  few  among  the  more  far-sighted 
conservatives  who  would  like  to  dispense  with 
them.  To  me  and,  thank  Heaven,  to  the  majority 
of  Germans,  life  deprived  of  them  would  seem  un- 
endurable. My  mother  afterward  learned  to  share 
this  opinion,  though,  like  ourselves,  in  whose  hearts 
she  early  implanted  it,  she  retained  to  her  last 
hour  her  loyalty  to  the  king. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

IN    KEILHAU. 

KEILHAU  !  How  much  is  comprised  in  that  one 
short  word  ! 

It  recalls  to  my  memory  the  pure  happiness  of 
the  fairest  period  of  boyhood,  a  throng  of  hon- 
oured, beloved,  and  merry  figures,  and  hundreds 
of  stirring,  bright,  and  amusing  scenes  in  a  period 
of  life  rich  in  instruction  and  amusement,  as  well 
as  the  stage  so  lavishly  endowed  by  Nature  on 
which  they  were  performed.  Jean  Paul  has  termed 
melancholy  the  blending  of  joy  and  pain,  and  it 
was  doubtless  a  kindred  feeling  which  filled  my 
heart  in  the  days  before  my  departure,  and  induced 
me  to  be  particularly  good  and  obliging  to  every- 
body in  the  house.  My  mother  took  us  once  more 
to  my  father's  grave  in  the  Dreifaltigkeits  ceme- 


IN    KEILHAU. 


133 


tery,  where  I  made  many  good  resolutions.  Only 
the  best  reports  should  reach  home  from  Keil- 
hau,  and  I  had  already  obtained  excellent  ones  in 
Berlin. 

On  the  evening  of  our  departure  there  were 
numerous  kisses  and  farewell  glances  at  all  that 
was  left  behind ;  but  when  we  were  seated  in  the 
car  with  my  mother,  rushing  through  the  land- 
scape adorned  with  the  most  luxuriant  spring  foli- 
age, my  heart  suddenly  expanded,  and  the  pleasure 
of  travel  and  delight  in  the  many  new  scenes  be- 
fore me  destroyed  every  other  feeling. 

The  first  vineyard  I  saw  at  Naumburg — I  had 
long  forgotten  those  on  the  Rhine — interested  me 
deeply ;  the  Rudelsburg  at  Kosen,  the  ruins  of  a 
real  ancient  castle,  pleased  me  no  less  because  I 
had  never  heard  Franz  Kugler's  song : 

"  Beside  the  Saale's  verdant  strand 
Once  stood  full  many  a  castle  grand, 
But  roofless  ruins  are  they  all  ; 
The  wind  sweeps  through  from  hall  to  hall  ; 
Slow  drift  the  clouds  above," 

which  refers  to  this  charming  part  of  the  Thuringian 
hill  country.  We  were  soon  to  learn  to  sing  it  at 
Keilhau.  Weimar  was  the  first  goal  of  this  jour- 
ney. We  had  heard  much  of  our  classic  poets; 
nay,  I  knew  Schiller's  Bell  and  some  of  Goethe's 
poems  by  heart,  and  we  had  heard  them  mentioned 
with  deep  reverence.  Now  we  were  to  see  their 


134  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

home,  and  a  strange  emotion  took  possession  of 
me  when  we  entered  it. 

Every  detail  of  this  first  journey  has  remained 
stamped  on  my  memory.  I  even  know  what  we 
ordered  for  supper  at  the  hotel  where  we  spent 
the  night.  But  my  mother  had  a  severe  headache, 
so  we  saw  none  of  the  sights  of  Weimar  except  the 
Goethe  house  in  the  city  and  the  other  one  in  the 
park.  I  cannot  tell  what  my  feelings  were,  they 
are  too  strongly  blended  with  later  impressions. 
I  only  know  that  the  latter  especially  seemed  to 
me  very  small.  I  had  imagined  the  "  Goethe 
House  "  like  the  palace  of  the  Prince  of  Prussia 
or  Prince  Radziwill  in  Wilhelmstrasse.  The 
Grand  Duke's  palace,  on  the  contrary,  appeared 
aristocratic  and  stately.  We  looked  at  it  very 
closely,  because  it  was  the  birthplace  of  the  Prin- 
cess of  Prussia,  of  whom  Fraulein  Lamperi  had 
told  us  so  much. 

The  next  morning  my  mother  was  well  again. 
The  railroad  connecting  Weimar  and  Rudolstadt, 
near  which  Keilhau  is  located,  was  built  long  after, 
so' we  continued  our  journey  in  an  open  carriage 
and  reached  Rudolstadt  about  noon. 

After  we  had  rested  a  short  time,  the  carriage 
which  was  to  take  us  to  Keilhau  drove  up. 

As  we  were  getting  in,  an  old  gentleman  ap- 
proached, who  instantly  made  a  strong  impression 
upon  me.  In  outward  appearance  he  bore  a 


IN    KEILHAU 


135 


arked  resemblance  to  Wilhelm  Grimm.  I  should 
have  noticed  him  aim^fchundreds  ;  for  long  grey 
locks,  parted  in  the  rrncraie,  floated  around  a  nobly 
formed  head,  his  massive  yet  refined  features  bore 
the  stamp  of  a  most  kindly  nature,  and  his  eyes 
were  the  mirror  of  a  pure,  childlike  soul.  The 
rare  charm  of  their  sunny  sparkle,  when  his  warm 
heart  expanded  to  pleasure  or  his  keen  intellect 
had  succeeded  in  solving  any  problem,  comes  back 
vividly  to  my  memory  as  I  write,  and  they  beamed 
brightly  enough  when  he  perceived  our  companion. 
They  were  old  acquaintances,  for  my  mother  had 
been  to  Keilhau  several  times  on  Martin's  account. 
She  addressed  him  by  the  name  of  Middendorf, 
and  we  recognized  him  as  one  of  the  heads  of  the 
institute,  of  whom  we  had  heard  many  pleasant 
things. 

He  had  driven  to  Rudolstadt  with  the  "old 
bay,"  but  he  willingly  accepted  a  seat  in  our  car- 
riage. 

We  had  scarcely  left  the  street  with  the  hotel 
behind  us,  when  he  began  to  speak  of  Schiller,  and 
pointed  out  the  mountain  which  bore  his  name  and 
to  which  in  his  "  Walk  "  he  had  cried  : 

"  Hail !  oh  my  Mount,  with  radiant  crimson  peak." 

Then  he  told  us  of  the  Lengefeld  sisters,  whom 
the  poet  had  so  often  met  here,  and  one  of  whom, 

Charlotte,  afterward   became   his  wife.      All  this 
10 


136  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

was  done  in  a  way /which  had  no  touch  of 
gogy  or  of  anything  ^n^fcu^  prepared  for  chil- 
dren, yet  every  word  was^fsily  understood  and  in- 
terested us.  Besides,  his  voice  had  a  deep,  musical 
tone,  to  which  my  ear  was  susceptible  at  an  early 
age.  He  understood  children  of  our  disposition 
and  knew  what  pleased  them. 

In  Schaale,  the  first  village  through  which  we 
passed,  he  said,  pointing  to  the  stream  which  flowed 
into  the  Saale  close  by :  "  Look,  boys,  now  we  are 
coming  into  our  own  neighbourhood,  the  valley  of 
the  Schaal.  It  owes  its  name  to  this  brook,  which 
rises  in  our  own  meadows,  and  I  suppose  you 
would  like  to  know  why  our  village  is  called  Keil- 
hau  ?" 

While  speaking,  he  pointed  up  the  stream  and 
briefly  described  its  course. 

We  assented. 

We  had  passed  the  village  of  Schaale.  The  one 
before  us,  with  the  church,  was  called  Eichfeld,  and 
at  our  right  was  another  which  we  could  not  see, 
Lichtstadt.  In  ancient  times,  he  told  us,  the  moun- 
tain sides  and  the  bottom  of  the  whole  valley  had 
been  clothed  with  dense  oak  forests.  Then  peo- 
ple came  who  wanted  to  till  the  ground.  They  be- 
gan to  clear  (lichteti)  these  woods  at  Lichtstadt. 
This  was  a  difficult  task,  and  they  had  used  axes 
(Kei/e')  for  the  purpose.  At  Eichfeld  they  felled 
the  oaks  (Eiche),  and  carried  the  trunks  to  Schaale, 


IN    KEILHAU. 


137 


where  the  bark  (Schale)  was  stripped  off  to  make 
tan  for  the  tanners  on  the  Saale.  So  the  name  of 
Lichtstadt  came  from  the  clearing  of  the  forests, 
Eichfeld  from  the  felling  of  the  oaks,  Schaale  from 
stripping  off  the  bark,  and  Keilhau  from  the  hewing 
with  axes. 

This  simple  tale  of  ancient  times  had  sprung 
from  the  Thuringian  soil,  so  rich  in  legends,  and, 
little  as  it  might  satisfy  the  etymologist,  it  de- 
lighted me.  I  believed  it,  and  when  afterward  I 
looked  down  from  a  height  into  the  valley  and  saw 
the  Saale,  my  imagination  clothed  the  bare  or  pine- 
clad  mountain  slopes  with  huge  oak  forests,  and 
beheld  the  giant  forms  of  the  ancient  Thuringians 
felling  the  trees  with  their  heavy  axes. 

The  idea  of  violence  which  seemed  to  be  con- 
nected with  the  name  of  Keilhau  had  suddenly 
disappeared.  It  had  gained  meaning  to  me,  and 
Herr  Middendorf  had  given  us  an  excellent  proof 
of  a  fundamental  requirement  of  Friedrich  Froebel, 
the  founder  of  the  institution  :  "  The  external  must 
be  spiritualized  and  given  an  inner  significance." 

The  same  talented  pedagogue  had  said,  "  Our 
education  associates  instruction  with  the  external 
world  which  surrounds  the  human  being  as  child 
and  youth";  and  Middendorf  carried  out  this  pre- 
cept when,  at  the  first  meeting,  he  questioned  us 
about  the  trees  and  bushes  by  the  wayside,  and 
when  we  were  obliged  to  confess  our  ignorance  of 


138 


THE   STORY    OF    MY    LIFE. 


most  of  them,  he  mentioned  their  names  and  de- 
scribed their  peculiarities. 

-  At  last  we  reached  the  Keilhau  plain,  a  bowl 
whose  walls  formed  tolerably  high  mountains 
which  surrounded  it  on  all  sides  except  toward 
Rudolstadt,  where  an  opening  permitted  the  Schaal- 
bach  to  wind  through  meadows  and  fields.  So  the 
village  lies  like  an  egg  in  a  nest  open  in  one  direc- 
tion, like  the  beetle  in  the  calyx  of  a  flower  which 
has  lost  one  of  its  leaves.  Nature  has  girded  it 
on  three  sides  with  protecting  walls  which  keep 
the  wind  from  entering  the  valley,  and  to  this,  and 
the  delicious,  crystal-clear  water  which  flows  from 
the  mountains  into  the  pumps,  its  surprising  health- 
fulness  is  doubtless  due.  During  my  residence 
there  of  four  and  a  half  years  there  was  no  epi- 
demic disease  among  the  boys,  and  on  the  fiftieth 
jubilee  of  the  institute,  in  1867,  which  I  attended, 
the  statement  was  made  that  during  the  half  cent- 
ury of  its  existence  only  one  pupil  had  died,  and 
he  had  had  heart  disease  when  his  parents  sent  him 
to  the  school. 

We  must  have  arrived  on  Sunday,  for  we  met 
on  the  road  several  peasants  in  long  blue  coats, 
and  peasant  women  in  dark  cloth  cloaks  with  gold- 
embroidered  borders,  and  little  black  caps  from 
which  ribbons  three  or  four  feet  long  hung  down 
the  wearers'  backs.  The  cloaks  descended  from 
mother  to  daughter.  They  were  very  heavy,  yet  I 


IN   KEILHAU. 


139 


afterward  saw  peasant  women  wear  them  to  church 
in  summer. 

At  last  we  drove  into  the  broad  village  street. 
At  the  right,  opposite  to  the  first  houses,  lay  a  small 
pond  called  the  village  pool,  on  which  ducks  and 
geese  floated,  and  whose  dark  surface,  glittering 
with  many  hues,  reflected  the  shepherd's  hut.  Aft- 
er we  had  passed  some  very  fine  farmhouses,  we 
reached  the  "  Plan,"  where  bright  waters  plashed 
into  a  stone  trough,  a  linden  tree  shaded  the  danc- 
ing-ground, and  a  pretty  house  was  pointed  out  as 
the  schoolhouse  of  the  village  children. 

A  short  distance  farther  away  the  church  rose 
in  the  background.  But  we  had  no  time  to  look  at 
it,  for  we  were  already  driving  up  to  the  institute 
itself,  which  was  at  the  end  of  the  village,  and  con- 
sisted of  two  rows  of  houses  with  an  open  space 
closed  at  the  rear  by  the  wide  front  of  a  large 
building. 

The  bakery,  a  small  dwelling,  and  the  large 
gymnasium  were  at  our  left ;  on  the  right,  the  so- 
called  Lower  House,  with  the  residences  of  the 
head-masters'  families,  and  the  school  and  sleep- 
ing-rooms of  the  smaller  pupils,  whom  we  dubbed 
the  "  Panzen,"  and  among  whom  were  boys  only 
eight  and  nine  years  old. 

The  large  house  before  whose  central  door — to 
which  a  flight  of  stone  steps  led — we  stopped,  was 
the  Upper  House,  our  future  home. 


140  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  we  heard  a  loud 
noise  inside,  and  an  army  of  boys  came  rushing 
down  the  steps.  These  were  the  "  pupils,"  and  my 
heart  began  to  throb  faster. 

They  gathered  around  the  Rudolstadt  carriage 
boldly  enough  and  stared  at  us.  I  noticed  that  al- 
most all  were  bareheaded.  Many  wore  their  hair 
falling  in  long  locks  down  their  backs.  The  few 
who  had  any  coverings  used  black  velvet  caps, 
such  as  in  Berlin  would  be  seen  only  at  the  theatre 
or  in  an  artist's  studio. 

Middendorf  had  stepped  quickly  among  the 
lads,  and  as  they  came  running  up  to  take  his  hand 
or  hang  on  his  arm  we  saw  how  they  loved  him. 

But  we  had  little  time  for  observation.  Barop, 
the  head-master,  was  already  hastening  down  the 
steps,  welcoming  my  mother  and  ourselves  with 
his  deep,  musical  tones,  in  a  pure  Westphalian  dia- 
lect. 

Entering  the  Institute. 

Barop's  voice  sounded  so  sincere  and  cordial 
that  it  banished  every  thought  of  fear,  otherwise 
his  appearance  might  have  inspired  boys  of  our 
age  with  a  certain  degree  of  timidity,  for  he  was  a 
broad-shouldered  man  of  gigantic  stature,  who, 
like  Middendorf,  wore  his  grey  hair  parted  in  the 
middle,  though  it  was  cut  somewhat  shorter.  A 
pair  of  dark  eyes  sparkled  under  heavy,  bushy 
brows,  which  gave  them  the  aspect  of  clear  springs 


IN    KEILHAU.  141 

shaded  by  dense  thickets.  They  now  gazed  kindly 
at  us,  but  later  we  were  to  learn  their  irresistible 
power.  I  have  said,  and  I  still  think,  that  the  eyes 
of  the  artist,  Peter  Cornelius,  are  the  most  forceful 
I  have  ever  seen,  for  the  very  genius  of  art  gazed 
from  them.  Those  of  our  Barop  produced  no 
weaker  influence  in  their  way,  for  they  revealed 
scarcely  less  impressively  the  character  of  a  man. 
To  them,  especially,  was  due  the  implicit  obedience 
that  every  one  rendered  him.  When  they  flashed 
with  indignation  the  defiance  of  the  boldest  and 
most  refractory  quailed.  But  they  could  sparkle 
cheerily,  too,  and  whoever  met  his  frank,  kindly 
gaze  felt  honoured  and  uplifted. 

Earnest,  thoroughly  natural,  able,  strong,  relia- 
ble, rigidly  just,  free  from  any  touch  of  caprice,  he 
lacked  no  quality  demanded  by  his  arduous  profes- 
sion, and  hence  he  whom  even  the  youngest  ad- 
dressed as  "  Barop  "  never  failed  for  an  instant  to 
receive  the  respect  which  was  his  due,  and,  more- 
over, had  from  us  all  the  voluntary  gift  of  affec- 
tion, nay,  of  love.  He  was,  I  repeat,  every  inch  a 
man. 

When  very  young,  the  conviction  that  the  edu- 
cation of  German  boys  was  his  real  calling  ob- 
tained so  firm  a  hold  upon  his  mind  that  he  could 
not  be  dissuaded  from  giving  up  the  study  of  the 
law,  in  which  he  had  made  considerable  progress 
at  Halle,  and  devoting  himself  to  pedagogy. 


I42  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

His  father,  a  busy  lawyer,  had  threatened  him 
with  disinheritance  if  he  did  not  relinquish  his  in- 
tention of  accepting  the  by  no  means  brilliant  posi- 
tion of  a  teacher  at  Keilhau ;  but  he  remained 
loyal  to  his  choice,  though  his  father  executed  his 
threat  and  cast  him  off.  After  the  old  gentleman's 
death  his  brothers  and  sisters  voluntarily  restored 
his  portion  of  the  property,  but,  as  he  himself  told 
me  long  after,  the  quarrel  with  one  so  dear  to  him 
saddened  his  life  for  years.  For  the  sake  of  the 
"  fidelity  to  one's  self  "  which  he  required  from  oth- 
ers he  had  lost  his  father's  love,  but  he  had  obeyed 
a  resistless  inner  voice,  and  the  genuineness  of  his 
vocation  was  to  be  brilliantly  proved. 

Success  followed  his  efforts,  though  he  assumed 
the  management  of  the  Keilhau  Institute  under  the 
most  difficult  circumstances. 

Beneath  its  roof  he  had  found  in  the  niece  of 
Friedrich  Froebel  a  beloved  wife,  peculiarly  suited 
both  to  him  and  to  her  future  position.  She  was 
as  little  as  he  was  big,  but  what  energy,  what  tire- 
less activity  this  dainty,  delicate  woman  possessed! 
To  each  one  of  us  she  showed  a  mother's  sympa- 
thy, managed  the  whole  great  household  down  to 
the  smallest  details,  and  certainly  neglected  noth- 
ing in  the  care  of  her  own  sons  and  daughters. 

A  third  master,  the  archdeacon  Langethal,  was 
one  of  the  founders  of  the  institution,  but  had  left 
it  several  years  before. 


IN    KEILHAU.  !43 

As  I  mention  him  with  the  same  warmth  that  I 
speak  of  Middendorf  and  Barop,  many  readers 
will  suspect  that  this  portion  of  my  reminiscences 
contains  a  receipt  for  favours,  and  that  reverence 
and  gratitude,  nay,  perhaps  the  fear  of  injuring  an 
institution  still  existing,  induces  me  to  show  only 
the  lights  and  cover  the  shadows  with  the  mantle 
of  love. 

I  will  not  deny  that  a  boy  from  eleven  to  fifteen 
years  readily  overlooks  in  those  who  occupy  an  al- 
most paternal  relation  to  him  faults  which  would 
be  immediately  noted  by  the  unclouded  eyes  of  a 
critical  observer  ;  but  I  consider  myself  justified  in 
describing  what  I  saw  in  my  youth  exactly  as  it 
impressed  itself  on  my  memory.  I  have  never  per- 
ceived the  smallest  flaw  or  even  a  trait  or  act 
worthy  of  censure  in  either  Barop,  Middendorf,  or 
Langethal.  Finally,  I  may  say  that,  after  having 
learned  in  later  years  from  abundant  data  willing- 
ly placed  at  my  disposal  by  Johannes  Barop,  our 
teacher's  son  and  the  present  master  of  the  insti- 
tute, the  most  minute  details  concerning  their  char- 
acter and  work,  none  of  these  images  have  sus- 
tained any  material  injury. 

In  Friedrich  Froebel,  the  real  founder  of  the 
institute,  who  repeatedly  lived  among  us  for 
months,  I  have  learned  to  know  from  his  own 
works  and  the  comprehensive  amount  of  literature 
devoted  to  him,  a  really  talented  idealist,  who  on  the 


144  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

one  hand  cannot  be  absolved  from  an  amazing  con- 
tempt for  or  indifference  to  the  material  demands 
of  life,  and  on  the  other  possessed  a  certain  artless 
selfishness  which  gave  him  courage,  whenever  he 
wished  to  promote  objects  undoubtedly  pure  and 
noble,  to  deal  arbitrarily  with  other  lives,  even 
where  it  could  hardly  redound  to  their  advantage. 
I  shall  have  more  to  say  of  him  later.  ) 

The  source  of  Middendorf's  greatness  in  the 
sphere  where  life  and  his  own  choice  had  placed 
him  may  even  be  imputed  to  him  as  a  fault.  He, 
the  most  enthusiastic  of  all  Froebel's  disciples,  re- 
mained to  his  life's  end  a  lovable  child,  in  whom 
the  powers  of  a  rich  poetic  soul  surpassed  those  of 
the  thoughtful,  well-trained  mind.  He  would  have 
been  ill-adapted  for  any  practical  position,  but  no 
one  could  be  better  suited  to  enter  into  the  soul- 
life  of  young  human  beings,  cherish  and  ennoble 
them. 

A  deeper  insight  into  the  lives  of  Barop  and 
Langethal  taught  me  to  prize  these  men  more  and 
more. 

They  have  all  rested  under  the  sod  for  decades, 
and  though  their  institute,  to  which  I  owe  so 
much,  has  remained  dear  and  precious,  and  the 
years  I  spent  in  the  pleasant  Thuringian  mountain 
valley  are  numbered  among  the  tairest  in  my  life, 
I  must  renounce  making  proselytes  for  the  Keilhau 
Institute,  because,  when  I  saw  its  present  head  for 


IN    KEILHAU. 


145 


the  last  time,  as  a  very  young  man,  I  heard  from 
him,  to  my  sincere  regret,  that,  since  the  introduc- 
tion of  the  law  of  military  service,  he  found  him- 
self compelled  to  make  the  course  of  study  at  Ru- 
dolstadt  conform  to  the  system  of  teaching  in  a 
Realschule.*  He  was  forced  to  do  so  in  order  to 
give  his  graduates  the  certificate  for  the  one  year's 
military  service. 

The  classics,  formerly  held  in  such  high  esteem 
beneath  its  roof,  must  now  rank  below  the  sciences 
and  modern  languages,  which  are  regarded  as  most 
important.  But  love  for  Germany  and  the  devel- 
opment of  German  character,  which  Froebel  made 
the  foundation  of  his  method  of  education,  are  too 
deeply  rooted  there  ever  to  be  extirpated.  Both 
are  as  zealously  fostered  in  Keilhau  now  as  in 
former  years. 

After  a  cordial  greeting  from  Barop,  we  had 
desks  assigned  us  in  the  schoolroom,  which  were 
supplied  with  piles  of  books,  writing  materials,  and 
other  necessaries.  Ludo's  bed  stood  in  the  same 
dormitory  with  mine.  Both  were  hard  enough,  but 
this  had  not  damped  our  gay  spirits,  and  when  we 
were  taken  to  the  other  boys  we  were  soon  playing 
merrily  with  the  rest. 

The  first  difficulty  occurred  after  supper,  and 

*  School  in  which  the  arts  and  sciences  as  well  as  the  lan- 
guages are  taught. — TR. 


146  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

proved  to  be  one  of  the  most  serious  I  encoun- 
tered during  my  stay  in  the  school. 

My  mother  had  unpacked  our  trunks  and  ar- 
ranged everything  in  order.  Among  the  articles 
were  some  which  were  new  to  the  boys,  and  spe- 
cial notice  was  attracted  by  several  pairs  of  kid 
gloves  and  a  box  of  pomade  which  belonged  in 
our  pretty  leather  dressing-case,  a  gift  from  my 
grandmother. 

Dandified,  or,  as  we  should  now  term  them, 
"dudish"  affairs,  were  not  allowed  at  Keilhau  ;  so 
various  witticisms  were  made  which  culminated 
when  a  pupil  of  about  our  own  age  from  a  city  on 
the  Weser  called  us  Berlin  pomade-pots.  This 
vexed  me,  but  a  Berlin  boy  always  has  an  answer 
ready,  and  mine  was  defiant  enough.  The  matter 
might  have  ended  here  had  not  the  same  lad  stroked 
my  hair  to  see  how  Berlin  pomade  smelt.  From  a 
child  nothing  has  been  more  unendurable  than  to 
feel  a  stranger's  hand  touch  me,  especially  on  the 
head,  and,  before  I  was  aware  of  it,  I  had  dealt  my 
enemy  a  resounding  slap.  Of  course,  he  instantly 
rushed  at  me,  and  there  would  have  been  a  violent 
scuffle  had  not  the  older  pupils  interfered.  If  we 
wanted  to  do  anything,  we  must  wrestle.  This 
suited  my  antagonist,  and  I,  too,  was  not  averse 
to  the  contest,  for  I  had  unusually  strong  arms,  a 
well-developed  chest,  and  had  practised  wrestling 
in  the  Berlin  gymnasium. 


IN   KEILHAU. 


147 


The  struggle  began  under  the  direction  of  the 
older  pupils,  and  the  grip  on  which  I  had  relied  did 
not  fail.  It  consisted  in  clutching  the  antagonist 
just  above  the  hips.  If  the  latter  were  not  greatly 
my  superior,  and  I  could  exert  my  whole  strength 
to  clasp  him  to  me,  he  was  lost.  This  time  the 
clever  trick  did  its  duty,  and  my  adversary  was 
speedily  stretched  on  the  ground.  I  turned  my  back 
on  him,  but  he  rose,  panting  breathlessly.  "  It's 
like  a  bear  squeezing  one."  In  reply  to  every 
question  from  the  older  boys  who  stood  around  us 
laughing,  he  always  made  the  same  answer,  "  Like 
a  bear." 

I  had  reason  to  remember  this  very  common 
incident  in  boy  life,  for  it  gave  me  the  nickname 
used  by  old  and  young  till  after  my  departure. 
Henceforward  I  was  always  called  "the  bear." 
Last  year  I  had  the  pleasure  of  receiving  a  visit 
from  Dr.  Bareuther,  a  member  of  the  Austrian 
Senate  and  a  pupil  of  Keilhau.  We  had  not  met 
for  forty  years,  and  his  first  words  were  :  "  Look  at 
me,  Bear.  Who  am  I  ?  " 

My  brother  had  brought  his  nickname  with  him, 
and  everybody  called  him  Ludo  instead  of  Ludwig. 
The  pretty,  bright,  agile  lad,  who  also  never 
flinched,  soon  became  especially  popular,  and  my 
companions  were  also  fond  of  me,  as  I  learned, 
when,  during  the  last  years  of  my  stay  at  the  insti- 
tute, they  elected  me  captain  of  the  first  Bergwart — 


148  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

that  is,  commander-in-chief  of  the  whole  body  of 
pupils. 

My  first  fight  secured  my  position  forever.  We 
doubtless  owed  our  initiation  on  the  second  day 
into  everything  which  was  done  by  the  pupils,  both 
openly  and  secretly,  to  the  good  impression  made 
by  Martin.  There  was  nothing  wrong,  and  even 
where  mischief  was  concerned  I  can  term  it  to-day 
"  harmless."  The  new  boys  or  "  foxes  "  were  not 
neglected  or  "hazed,"  as  in  many  other  schools. 
Only  every  one,  even  the  newly  arrived  younger 
teachers,  was  obliged  to  submit  to  the  "  initiation." 
This  took  place  in  winter,  and  consisted  in  being 
buried  in  the  snow  and  having  pockets,  clothing, 
nay,  even  shirts,  filled  with  the  clean  but  wet  mass. 
Yet  I  remember  no  cold  caused  by  this  rude  bap- 
tism. My  mother  remained  several  days  with  us, 
and  as  the  weather  was  fine  she  accompanied  us 
to  the  neighbouring  heights — the  Kirschberg,  to 
which,  after  the  peaceful  cemetery  of  the  institute 
was  left  behind,  a  zigzag  path  led;  the  Kolm,  at 
whose  foot  rose  the  Upper  House ;  and  the  Steiger, 
from  whose  base  flowed  the  Schaalbach,  and  whose 
summit  afforded  a  view  of  a  great  portion  of  the 
Thuringian  mountains. 

We  older  pupils  afterwards  had  a  tall  tower 
erected  there  as  a  monument  to  Barop,  and  the 
prospect  from  its  lofty  summit,  which  is  more  than 
a  thousand  feet  high,  is  magnificent. 


IN    KEILHAU. 


149 


Even  before  the  completion  of  this  lookout,  the 
view  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  widest  far 
or  near,  and  we  were  treated  like  most  new-comers. 
During  the  ascent  our  eyes  were  bandaged,  and 
when  the  handkerchief  was  removed  a  marvellous 
picture  appeared  before  our  astonished  gaze.  In 
the  foreground,  toward  the  left,  rose  the  wooded 
height  crowned  by  the  stately  ruins  of  the  Blank- 
enburg.  Beyond  opened  the  beautiful  leafy  bed 
of  the  Saale,  proudly  dominated  by  the  Leuchten- 
burg.  Before  us  there  was  scarcely  any  barrier  to 
the  vision ;  for  behind  the  nearer  ranges  of  hills 
one  chain  of  the  wooded  Thuringian  Mountains 
towered  beyond  another,  and  where  the  horizon 
seemed  to  close  the  grand  picture,  peak  after  peak 
blended  with  the  sky  and  the  clouds,  and  the  light 
veil  of  mist  floating  about  them  seemed  to  merge 
all  into  an  indivisible  whole. 

I  have  gazed  from  this  spot  into  the  distance  at 
every  hour  of  the  day  and  season  of  the  year.  But 
the  fairest  time  of  all  on  the  Steiger  was  at  sunset, 
on  clear  autumn  days,  when  the  scene  close  at 
hand,  where  the  threads  of  gossamer  were  floating, 
was  steeped  in  golden  light,  the  distance  in  such 
exquisite  tints — from  crimson  to  the  deepest  violet 
blue,  edged  with  a  line  of  light — the  Saale  glim- 
mered with  a  silvery  lustre  amid  its  fringe  of  al- 
ders, and  the  sun  flashed  on  the  glittering  panes  of 
the  Leuchtenburg. 


THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE 

We  were  now  old  enough  to  enjoy  the  magnifi- 
cence of  this  prospect.  My  young  heart  swelled 
at  the  sight ;  and  if  in  after  years  my  eyes  could 
grasp  the  charm  of  a  beautiful  landscape  and  my 
pen  successfully  describe  it,  I  learned  the  art  here. 

It  was  pleasant,  too,  that  my  mother  saw  all 
this  with  us,  though  she  must  often  have  gone  to 
rest  very  much  wearied  from  her  rambles.  But 
teachers  and  pupils  vied  with  each  other  in  atten- 
tions to  her.  She  had  won  all  hearts.  We  noticed 
and  rejoiced  in  it  till  the  day  came  when  she 
left  us. 

She  was  obliged  to  start  very  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, in  order  to  reach  Berlin  the  same  evening. 
The  other  boys  were  not  up,  but  Barop,  Midden- 
dorf,  and  several  other  teachers  had  risen  to  take 
leave  of  her.  A  few  more  kisses,  a  wave  of  her 
handkerchief,  and  the  carriage  vanished  in  the  vil- 
lage. Ludo  and  I  were  alone,  and  I  vividly  re- 
member the  moment  when  we  suddenly  began  to 
weep  and  sob  as  bitterly  as  if  it  had  been  an  eter- 
nal farewell.  How  often  one  human  being  becomes 
the  sun  of  another's  life  !  And  it  is  most  frequently 
the  mother  who  plays  this  beautiful  part. 

Yet  the  anguish  of  parting  did  not  last  very 
long,  and  whoever  had  watched  the  boys  playing 
ball  an  hour  later  would  have  heard  our  voices 
among  the  merriest.  Afterwards  we  rarely  had 
attacks  of  homesickness,  there  were  so  many  new 


IN   KEILHAU.  151 

things  in  Keilhau,  and  even  familiar  objects  seemed 
changed  in  form  and  purpose. 

From  the  city  we  were  in  every  sense  transferred 
to  the  woods. 

True,  we  had  grown  up  in  the  beautiful  park  of 
the  Thiergarten,  but  only  on  its  edge;  to  live  in 
and  with  Nature,  "  become  one  with  her,"  as  Mid- 
dendorf  said,  we  had  not  learned. 

I  once  read  in  a  novel  by  Jensen,  as  a  well-at- 
tested fact,  that  during  an  inquiry  made  in  a  char- 
ity school  in  the  capital  a  considerable  number  of 
the  pupils  had  never  seen  a  butterfly  or  a  sunset. 
We  were  certainly  not  to  be  classed  among  such 
children.  But  our  intercourse  with  Nature  had 
been  limited  to  formal  visits  which  we  were  per- 
mitted to  pay  the  august  lady  at  stated  intervals. 
In  Keilhau  she  became  a  familiar  friend,  and  we 
therefore  were  soon  initiated  into  many  of  her  se- 
crets ;  for  none  seemed  to  be  withheld  from  our 
Middendorf  and  Barop,  whom  duty  and  inclination 
alike  prompted  to  sharpen  our  ears  also  for  her 
language. 

The  Keilhau  games  and  walks  usually  led  up 
the  mountains  or  into  the  forest,  and  here  the  older 
pupils  acted  as  teachers,  but  not  in  any  pedagogical 
way.  Their  own  interest  in  whatever  was  worthy 
of  note  in  Nature  was  so  keen  that  they  could  not 
help  pointing  it  out  to  their  less  experienced  com- 
panions. 


152  THE   STORY  OF    MY   LIFE. 

On  our  "picnics"  from  Berlin  we  had  taken 
dainty  mugs  in  order  to  drink  from  the  wells  ;  now 
we  learned  to  seek  and  find  the  springs  themselves, 
and  how  delicious  the  crystal  fluid  tastes  from  the 
hollow  of  the  hand,  Diogenes's  drinking-cup ! 

Old  Councillor  Wellmer,  in  the  Crede"  House,  in 
Berlin,  a  zealous  entomologist,  owned  a  large  col- 
lection of  beetles,  and  had  carefully  impaled  his 
pets  on  long  slender  pins  in  neat  boxes,  which 
filled  numerous  glass  cases.  They  lacked  nothing 
but  life.  In  Keilhau  we  found  every  variety  of  in- 
sect in  central  Germany,  on  the  bushes  and  in  the 
moss,  the  turf,  the  bark  of  trees,  or  on  the  flowers 
and  blades  of  grass,  and  they  were  alive  and  al- 
lowed us  to  watch  them.  Instead  of  neatly  written 
labels,  living  lips  told  us  their  names. 

We  had  listened  to  the  notes  of  the  birds  in  the 
Thiergarten  ;  but  our  mother,  the  tutor,  the  pla- 
cards, our  nice  clothing,  prohibited  our  following 
the  feathered  songsters  into  the  thickets.  But  in 
Keilhau  we  were  allowed  to  pursue  them  to  their 
nests.  The  woods  were  open  to  every  one,  and 
nothing  could  injure  our  plain  jackets  and  stout 
boots.  Even  in  my  second  year  at  Keilhau  I  could 
distinguish  all  the  notes  of  the  numerous  birds  in 
the  Thuringian  forests,  and,  with  Ludo,  began  the 
collection  of  eggs  whose  increase  afforded  us  so 
much  pleasure.  Our  teachers'  love  for  all  animate 
creation  had  made  them  impose  bounds  on  the  zeal 


IN   KEILHAU. 


153 


of  the  egg-hunters,  who  were  required  always  to 
leave  one  egg  in  the  nest,  and  if  it  contained  but 
one  not  to  molest  it.  How  many  trees  we  climbed, 
what  steep  cliffs  we  scaled,  through  what  crevices 
we  squeezed  to  add  a  rare  egg  to  our  collection  ; 
nay,  we  even  risked  our  limbs  and  necks!  Life 
is  valued  so  much  less  by  the  young,  to  whom  it  is 
brightest,  and  before  whom  it  still  stretches  in  a 
long  vista,  than  by  the  old,  for  whom  its  charms  are 
already  beginning  to  fade,  and  who  are  near  its  end. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  afternoon  when,  sup- 
plied with  ropes  and  poles,  we  went  to  the  Owl 
Mountain,  which  originally  owed  its  name  to  Mid- 
dendorf,  because  when  he  came  to  Keilhau  he  no- 
ticed that  its  rocky  slope  served  as  a  home  for  sev- 
eral pairs  of  horned  owls.  Since  then  their  numbers 
had  increased,  and  for  some  time  larger  night  birds 
had  been  flying  in  and  out  of  a  certain  crevice. 

It  was  still  the  laying  season,  and  their  nests 
must  be  there.  Climbing  the  steep  precipice  was 
no  easy  task,  but  we  succeeded,  and  were  then  low- 
ered from  above  into  the  crevice.  At  that  time 
we  set  to  work  with  the  delight  of  discoverers,  but 
now  I  frown  when  I  consider  that  those  who  let 
first  the  daring  Albrecht  von  Calm,  of  Brunswick, 
and  then  me  into  the  chasm  by  ropes  were  boys  of 
thirteen  or  fourteen  at  the  utmost.  Marbod,  my 
companion's  brother,  was  one  of  the  strongest  of 
our  number,  and  we  were  obliged  to  force  our  way 


!54  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

like  chimney  sweeps  by  pressing  our  hands  and 
feet  against  the  walls  of  the  narrow  rough  crevice. 
Yet  it  now  seems  a  miracle  that  the  adventure  re- 
sulted in  no  injury.  Unfortunately,  we  found  the 
young  birds  already  hatched,  and  were  compelled 
to  return  with  our  errand  unperformed.  But  we 
afterward  obtained  such  eggs,  and  their  form  is 
more  nearly  ball-shape  than  that  seen  in  those  of 
most  other  birds.  We  knew  how  the  eggs  of  all 
the  feathered  guests  of  Germany  were  coloured 
and  marked,  and  the  chest  of  drawers  containing 
our  collection  stood  for  years  in  my  mother's  attic. 
When  I  inquired  about  it  a  few  years  ago,  it  could 
not  be  found,  and  Ludo,  who  had  helped  in  gather- 
ing it,  lamented  its  loss  with  me. 


CHAPTER    XII. 
FRIEDRICH  FROEBEL'S  IDEAL  OF  EDUCATION. 

DANGEROUS  enterprises  were  of  course  forbid- 
den, but  the  teachers  of  the  institute  neglected  no 
means  of  training  our  bodies  to  endure  every  ex- 
ertion and  peril ;  for  Froebel  was  still  alive,  and  the 
ideal  of  education,  for  whose  realization  he  had 
established  the  Keilhau  school,  had  become  to  his 
assistants  and  followers  strong  and  healthy  real- 
ities. But  Froebel's  purpose  did  not  require  the 


IDEAL  OF   EDUCATION. 


155 


culture  of  physical  strength.  His  most  marked 
postulates  were  the  preservation  and  development 
of  the  individuality  of  the  boys  entrusted  to  his 
care,  and  their  training  in  German  character  and 
German  nature ;  for  he  beheld  the  sum  of  all  the 
traits  of  higher,  purer  manhood  united  in  those  of 
the  true  German.* 

Love  for  the  heart,  strength  for  the  character, 
seemed  to  him  the  highest  gifts  with  which  he 
could  endow  his  pupils  for  life. 

He  sought  to  rear  the  boy  to  unity  with  him- 
self, with  God,  with  Nature,  and  with  mankind, 
and  the  way  led  to  trust  in  God  through  religion, 
trust  in  himself  by  developing  the  strength  of  mind 
and  body,  and  confidence  in  mankind — that  is,  in 
others,  by  active  relations  with  life  and  a  loving  in- 
terest in  the  past  and  present  destinies  of  our  fel- 
low-men. This  required  an  eye  and  heart  open  to 
our  surroundings,  sociability,  and  a  deeper  insight 
into  history.  Here  Nature  seems  to  be  forgotten. 
But  Nature  comes  into  the  category  of  religion, 
for  to  him  religion  means :  To  know  and  feel  at 
one  with  ourselves,  with  God,  and  with  man ;  to  be 
loyal  to  ourselves,  to  God,  and  to  Nature  :  and  to  re- 
main in  continual  active,  living  relations  with  God. 

The  teacher  must  lead  the  pupils  to  men  as  well 
as  to  God  and  Nature,  and  direct  them  from  action 

*  What  he  terms  "  German  "  in  his  writings  means  manly 
and  human  in  its  higher  sense. 


156  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

to  perception  and  thought.  For  action  he  takes 
special  degrees,  capacity,  skill,  trustworthiness; 
for  perception,  consciousness,  insight,  clearness. 
Only  the  practical  and  clear-sighted  man  can  main- 
tain himself  as  a  thinker,  opening  out  as  a  teacher 
new  trains  of  thought,  and  comprehending  the 
basis  of  what  is  already  acquired  and  the  laws 
which  govern  it. 

Froebel  wishes  to  have  the  child  regarded  as  a 
bud  on  the  great  tree  of  life,  and  therefore  each 
pupil  needs  to  be  considered  individually,  devel- 
oped mentally  and  physically,  fostered  and  trained 
as  a  bud  on  the  huge  tree  of  the  human  race.  Even 
as  a  system  of  instruction,  education  ought  not  to 
be  a  rigid  plan,  incapable  of  modification,  it  should 
be  adapted  to  the  individuality  of  the  child,  the 
period  in  which  it  is  growing  to  maturity,  and  its 
environment.  The  child  should  be  led  to  feel, 
work,  and  act  by  its  own  experiences  in  the  pres- 
ent and  in  its  home,  not  by  the  opinions  of  others 
or  by  fixed,  prescribed  rules.  From  independent, 
carefully  directed  acts  and  knowledge,  perceptions, 
and  thoughts,  the  product  of  this  education  must 
come  forth — a  man,  or,  as  it  is  elsewhere  stated,  a 
thorough  German.  At  Keilhau  he  is  to  be  per- 
fected, converted  into  a  finished  production  with- 
out a  flaw.  If  the  institute  has  fulfilled  its  duty  to 
the  individual,  he  will  be : 

To  his  native  land,  a  brave  son  in  the  hour  of 


IDEAL   OF   EDUCATION. 


157 


peril,  in  the  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  and  sturdy 
strength. 

To  the  family,  a  faithful  child  and  a  father  who 
will  secure  prosperity. 

To  the  state,  an  upright,  honest,  industrious 
citizen. 

To  the  army,  a  clear-sighted,  strong,  healthy, 
brave  soldier  and  leader. 

To  the  trades,  arts,  and  sciences,  a  skilled  helper, 
an  active  promoter,  a  worker  accustomed  to  thor- 
ough investigation,  who  has  grown  to  maturity  in 
close  intercourse  with  Nature. 

To  Jesus  Christ,  a  faithful  disciple  and  brother; 
a  loving,  obedient  child  of  God. 

To  mankind,  a  human  being  according  to  the 
image  of  God,  and  not  according  to  that  of  a  fash- 
ion journal. 

No  one  is  reared  for  the  drawing-room ;  but 
where  there  is  a  drawing-room  in  which  mental 
gifts  are  fostered  and  truth  finds  an  abode,  a  true 
graduate  of  Keilhau  will  be  an  ornament.  "  No 
instruction  in  bowing  and  tying  cravats  is  neces- 
sary; people  learn  that  only  too  quickly,"  said 
Froebel. 

The  right  education  must  be  a  harmonious  one, 
and  must  be  thoroughly  in  unison  with  the  neces- 
sary phenomena  and  demands  of  human  life. 

Thus  the  Keilhau  system  of  education  must 
claim  the  whole  man,  his  inner  as  well  as  his  outer 


158  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

existence.  Its  purpose  is  to  watch  the  nature  of 
each  individual  boy,  his  peculiarities,  traits,  talents, 
above  all,  his  character,  and  afford  to  all  the  neces- 
sary development  and  culture.  It  follows  step  by 
step  the  development  of  the  human  being,  from  the 
almost  instinctive  impulse  to  feeling,  consciousness, 
and  will.  At  each  one  of  these  steps  each  child  is 
permitted  to  have  only  what  he  can  bear,  under- 
stand, and  assimilate,  while  at  the  same  time  it 
serves  as  a  ladder  to  the  next  higher  step  of  de- 
velopment and  culture.  In  this  way  Froebel,  whose 
own  notes,  collected  from  different  sources,  we  are 
here  following,  hopes  to  guard  against  a  defect- 
ive or  misdirected  education;  for  what  the  pupil 
knows  and  can  do  has  sprung,  as  it  were,  from  his 
own  brain.  Nothing  has  been  learned,  but  devel- 
oped from  within.  Therefore  the  boy  who  is  sent 
into  the  world  will  understand  how  to  use  it,  and 
possess  the  means  for  his  own  further  develop- 
ment and  perfection  from  step  to  step. 

Every  human  being  has  a  talent  for  some  calling 
or  vocation,  and  strength  for  its  development.  It 
is  the  task  of  the  institute  to  cultivate  the  powers 
which  are  especially  requisite  for  the  future  fulfil- 
ment of  the  calling  appointed  by  Nature  herself. 
Here,  too,  the  advance  must  be  step  by  step. 
Where  talent  or  inclination  lead,  every  individual 
will  be  prepared  to  deal  with  even  the  greatest  ob- 
stacles, and  must  possess  even  the  capacity  to  rep- 


IDEAL  OF   EDUCATION. 

resent  externally  what  has  been  perceived  and 
thought — that  is,  to  speak  and  write  clearly  and  ac- 
curately— for  in  this  way  the  intellectual  power  of 
the  individual  will  first  be  made  active  and  visible 
to  others.  We  perceive  that  Froebel  strongly  an- 
tagonizes the  Roman  postulate  that  knowledge 
should  be  imparted  to  boys  according  to  a  thor- 
oughly tested  method  and  succession  approved  by 
the  mature  human  intellect,  and  which  seem  most 
useful  to  it  for  later  life. 

The  systematic  method  which,  up  to  the  time  of 
Pestalozzi,  prevailed  in  Germany,  and  is  again  em- 
bodied in  our  present  mode  of  education,  seemed 
to  him  objectionable.  The  Swiss  reformer  pointed 
out  that  the  mother's  heart  had  instinctively  found 
the  only  correct  system  of  instruction,  and  set  before 
the  pedagogue  the  task  of  watching  and  cultivat- 
ing the  child's  talents  with  maternal  love  and  care. 
He  utterly  rejected  the  old  system,  and  Froebel 
stationed  himself  as  a  fellow-combatant  at  his  side, 
but  went  still  further.*  This  stand  required  a  high 
degree  of  courage  at  the  time  of  the  founding  of 
Keilhau,  when  Hegel's  influence  was  omnipotent 
in  educational  circles,  for  Hegel  set  before  the 

*  Pestalozzi  seemed  to  him  in  too  great  haste  to  fit  the  child 
for  practical  life.  His  mind  should  first  lie  before  the  teacher 
like  an  open  book,  and  the  instruction  should  then  relate  to 
whatever  most  warmly  interested  the  pupils.  After  this  was 
mastered,  progress  should  first  be  made  step  by  step. 


l6o  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

school  the  task  of  imparting  culture,  and  forgot 
that  it  lacked  the  most  essential  conditions;  for 
the  school  can  give  only  knowledge,  while  true  ed- 
ucation demands  a  close  relation  between  the  per- 
son to  be  educated  and  the  world  from  which 
the  school,  as  Hegel  conceived  it,  is  widely  sun- 
dered. 

Froebel  recognized  that  the  extent  of  the 
knowledge  imparted  to  each  pupil  was  of  less  im- 
portance, and  that  the  school  could  not  be  ex- 
pected to  bestow  on  each  individual  a  thoroughly 
completed  education,  but  an  intellect  so  well  trained 
that  when  the  time  came  for  him  to  enter  into  re- 
lations with  the  world  and  higher  instructors  he 
would  have  at  his  disposal  the  means  to  draw  from 
both  that  form  of  culture  which  the  school  is  un- 
able to  impart.  He  therefore  turned  his  back 
abruptly  on  the  old  system,  denied  that  the  main 
object  of  education  was  to  meet  the  needs  of  after- 
life, and  opposed  having  the  interests  of  the  child 
sacrificed  to  those  of  the  man ;  for  the  child  in  his 
eyes  is  sacred,  an  independent  blessing  bestowed 
upon  him  by  God,  towards  whom  he  has  the  one 
duty  of  restoring  to  those  who  confided  it  to  him 
in  a  higher  degree  of  perfection,  with  unfolded 
mind  and  soul,  and  a  body  and  character  steeled 
against  every  peril.  '  "  A  child,"  he  says,  "  who 
knows  how  to  do  right  in  his  own  childish  sphere, 
will  grow  naturally  into  an  upright  manhood.". 


IDEAL  OF   EDUCATION.  161 

With  regard  to  instruction,  his  view,  briefly 
stated,  is  as  follows :  The  boy  whose  special  tal- 
ents are  carefully  developed,  to  whom  we  give  the 
power  of  absorbing  and  reproducing  everything 
which  is  connected  with  his  talent,  will  know  how 
to  assimilate,  by  his  own  work  in  the  world  and 
wider  educational  advantages,  everything  which 
will  render  him  a  perfect  and  thoroughly  educated 
man.  With  half  the  amount  of  preliminary  knowl- 
edge in  the  province  of  his  specialty,  the  boy  or 
youth  dismissed  by  us  as  a  harmoniously  devel- 
oped man,  to  whom  we  have  given  the  methods 
requisite  for  the  acquisition  of  all  desirable  branches 
of  knowledge,  will  accomplish  more  than  his  intel- 
lectual twin  who  has  been  trained  according  to  the 
ideas  of  the  Romans  (and,  let  us  add,  Hegel). 

I  think  Froebel  is  right.  If  his  educational 
principles  were  the  common  property  of  mankind, 
we  might  hope  for  a  realization  of  Jean  Paul's  pre- 
diction that  the  world  would  end  with  a  child's 
paradise.  We  enjoyed  a  foretaste  of  this  paradise 
in  Keilhau.  But  when  I  survey  our  modern  gym- 
nasia, I  am  forced  to  believe  that  if  they  should 
succeed  in  equipping  their  pupils  with  still  greater 
numbers  of  rules  for  the  future,  the  happiness  of 
the  child  would  be  wholly  sacrificed  to  the  interests 
of  the  man,  and  the  life  of  this  world  would  close 
with  the  birth  of  overwise  greybeards.  I  might 
well  be  tempted  to  devote  still  more  time  to  the 


162  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

educational  principles  of  the  man  who,  from  the 
depths  of  his  full,  warm  heart,  addressed  to  parents 
the  appeal,  "  Come,  let  us  live  for  our  children," 
but  it  would  lead  me  beyond  the  allotted 
limits. 

Many  of  Froebel's  pedagogical  principles  un- 
doubtedly appear  at  first  sight  a  pallid  theorem, 
partly  a  matter  of  course,  partly  impracticable. 
During  our  stay  in  Keilhau  we  never  heard  of 
these  claims,  concerning  which  we  pupils  were  the 
subject  of  experiment.  Far  less  did  we  feel  that 
we  were  being  educated  according  to  any  fixed 
method.  We  perceived  very  little  of  any  form  of 
government.  The  relation  between  us  and  our 
teachers  was  so  natural  and  affectionate  that  it 
seemed  as  if  no  other  was  possible. 

Yet,  when  I  compared  our  life  at  Keilhau  with 
the  principles  previously  mentioned,  I  found  that 
Barop,  Middendorf,  and  old  Langethal,  as  well  as 
the  sub-teachers  Bagge,  Budstedt,  and  Schaffner, 
had  followed  them  in  our  education,  and  succeeded 
in  applying  many  of  those  which  seemed  the  most 
difficult  to  carry  into  execution.  This  filled  me 
with  sincere  admiration,  though  I  soon  perceived 
that  it  could  have  been  done  only  by  men  in 
whom  Froebel  had  transplanted  his  ideal,  men 
who  were  no  less  enthusiastic  concerning  their 
profession  than  he,  and  whose  personality  pre- 
destined them  to  solve  successfully  tasks  which 


IDEAL   OF    EDUCATION.  ^3 

presented  difficulties  almost  unconquerable  by 
others. 

Every  boy  was  to  be  educated  according  to  his 
peculiar  temperament,  with  special  regard  to  his 
disposition,  talents,  and  character.  Although  there 
were  sixty  of  us,  this  was  actually  done  in  the  case 
of  each  individual. 

Thus  the  teachers  perceived  that  the  endow- 
ments of  my  brother,  with  whom  I  had  hitherto 
shared  everything,  required  a  totally  different  sys- 
tem of  education  from  mine.  While  I  was  set  to 
studying  Greek,  he  was  released  from  it  and  as- 
signed to  modern  languages  and  the  arts  and  sci- 
ences. They  considered  me  better  suited  for  a  life 
of  study,  him  qualified  for  some  practical  calling 
or  a  military  career. 

Even  in  the  tasks  allotted  to  each,  and  the 
opinions  passed  upon  our  physical  and  mental 
achievements,  there  never  was  any  fixed  standard. 
These  teachers  always  kept  in  view  the  whole  indi- 
vidual, and  especially  his  character.  Thereby  the 
parents  of  a  Keilhau  pupil  were  far  better  informed 
in  many  respects  than  those  of  our  gymnasiasts, 
who  so  often  yield  to  the  temptation  of  estimating 
their  sons'  work  by  the  greater  or  less  number  of 
errors  in  their  Latin  exercises. 

It  afforded  me  genuine  pleasure  to  look  through 
the  Keilhau  reports.  Each  contained  a  description 
of  character,  with  a  criticism  of  the  work  accom- 


164  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

plished,  partly  with  reference  to  the  pupil's  ca- 
pacity, partly  to  the  demands  of  the  school.  Some 
are  little  masterpieces  of  psychological  penetration. 

Many  of  those  who  have  followed  these  state- 
ments will  ask  how  the  German  nature  and  German 
character  can  be  developed  in  the  boys. 

It  was  thoroughly  done  in  Keilhau. 

But  the  solution  of  the  problem  required  men 
like  Langethal  and  Middendorf,  who,  even  in  their 
personal  appearance  models  of  German  strength 
and  dignity,  had  fought  for  their  native  land,  and 
who  were  surpassed  in  depth  and  warmth  of  feel- 
ing by  no  man. 

I  repeat  that  what  Froebel  termed  German  was 
really  the  higher  traits  of  human  character ;  but 
nothing  was  more  deeply  imprinted  on  our  souls 
than  love  for  our  native  land.  Here  the  young 
voices  not  only  extolled  the  warlike  deeds  of  the 
brave  Prussians,  but  recited  with  equal  fervor  all 
the  songs  with  which  true  patriotism  has  inspired 
German  poets.  Perhaps  this  delight  in  Germanism 
went  too  far  in  many  respects;  it  fostered  hatred 
and  scorn  of  everything  "  foreign,"  and  was  the 
cause  of  the  long  hair  and  cap,  pike  and  broad 
shirt  collar  worn  by  many  a  pupil.  Yet  their  num- 
ber was  not  very  large,  and  Ludo,  our  most  inti- 
mate friends,  and  I  never  joined  them. 

Barop  himself  smiled  at  their  "  Teutonism  "  but 
indulged  it,  and  it  was  stimulated  by  some  of  the 


IDEAL   OF   EDUCATION. 


I65 


teachers,  especially  the  magnificent  Zeller,  so  full 
of  vigour  and  joy  in  existence.  I  can  still  see  the 
gigantic  young  Swiss,  as  he  made  the  pines  trem- 
ble with  his  "  Odin,  Odin,  death  to  the  Romans !  " 

One  of  the  pupils,  Count  zur  Lippe,  whose  name 
was  Hermann,  was  called  "  Arminius,"  in  memory 
of  the  conqueror  of  Varus.  But  these  were  exter- 
nal things. 

On  the  other  hand,  how  vividly,  during  the  his- 
tory lesson,  Langethal,  the  old  warrior  of  1813,  de- 
scribed the  course  of  the  conflict  for  liberty  ! 

Friedrich  Froebel  had  also  pronounced  esteem 
for  manual  labour  to  be  genuinely  and  originally 
German,  and  therefore  each  pupil  was  assigned  a 
place  where  he  could  wield  spades  and  pickaxes, 
roll  stones,  sow,  and  reap. 

These  occupations  were  intended  to  strengthen 
the  body,  according  to  Froebel's  rules,  and  ab- 
sorbed the  greater  part  of  the  hours  not  devoted 
to  instruction. 

Midway  up  the  Dissauberg  was  the  spacious 
wrestling-ground  with  the  shooting-stand,  and  in 
the  court-yard  of  the  institute  the  gymnasium  for 
every  spare  moment  of  the  winter.  There  fencing 
was  practised  with  fleurets  (thrusting  swords),  not 
rapiers,  which  Barop  rightly  believed  had  less  ef- 
fect upon  developing  the  agility  of  youthful  bodies. 
Even  when  boys  of  twelve,  Ludo  and  I,  like  most 
of  the  other  pupils,  had  our  own  excellent  rifles,  a 


l66  THE  STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

Christmas  gift  from  our  mother,  and  how  quickly 
our  keen  young  eyes  learned  to  hit  the  bull's-eye ! 
There  was  good  swimming  in  the  pond  of  the  insti- 
tute, and  skating  was  practised  there  on  the  frozen 
surface  of  the  neighbouring  meadow  ;  then  we  had 
our  coasting  parties  at  the  "  Upper  House  "  and 
down  the  long  slope  of  the  Bissau,  the  climbing 
and  rambling,  the  wrestling  and  jumping  over  the 
backs  of  comrades,  the  ditches,  hedges,  and  fences, 
the  games  of  prisoner's  base  which  no  Keilhau  pu- 
pil will  ever  forget,  the  ball-playing  and  the  vari- 
ous games  of  running  for  which  there  was  always 
time,  although  at  the  end  of  the  year  we  had  ac- 
quired a  sufficient  amount  of  knowledge.  The 
stiffest  boy  who  came  to  Keilhau  grew  nimble, 
the  biceps  of  the  veriest  weakling  enlarged,  the 
most  timid  nature  was  roused  to  courage.  In- 
deed, here,  if  anywhere,  it  required  courage  to  be 
cowardly. 

If  Froebel  and  Langethal  had  seen  in  the  prin- 
ciple of  comradeship  the  best  furtherance  of  dis- 
cipline, it  was  proved  here  ;  for  we  formed  one 
large  family,  and  if  any  act  really  worthy  of  pun- 
ishment, no  mere  ebullition  of  youthful  spirits,  was 
committed  by  any  of  the  pupils,  Barop  summoned 
us  all,  formed  us  into  a  court  of  justice,  and  we 
examined  into  the  affair  and  fixed  the  penalty  our- 
selves. For  dishonourable  acts,  expulsion  from  the 
institute  ;  for  grave  offences,  confinement  to  the 


IDEAL  OF   EDUCATION.  ^7 

room — a  punishment  which  pledged  even  us,  who 
imposed  it,  to  avoid  all  intercourse  with  the  cul- 
prit for  a  certain  length  of  time.  For  lighter  mis- 
demeanours the  offender  was  confined  to  the  house 
or  the  court-yard.  If  trivial  matters  were  to  be 
censured  this  Areopagus  was  not  convened. 

And  we,  the  judges,  were  rigid  executors  of  the 
punishment.  Barop  afterwards  told  me  that  he 
was  frequently  compelled  to  urge  us  to  be  more 
gentle.  Old  Froebel  regarded  these  meetings  as 
means  for  coming  into  unity  with  life.  The  same 
purpose  was  served  by  the  form  of  our  intercourse 
with  one  another,  the  pedestrian  excursions,  and  the 
many  incidents  related  by  our  teachers  of  their 
own  lives,  especially  the  historical  instruction 
which  was  connected  with  the  history  of  civili- 
zation and  so  arranged  as  to  seek  to  make  us 
familiar  not  only  with  the  deeds  of  nations  and 
bloody  battles,  but  with  the  life  of  the  human 
race. 

In  spite  of,  or  on  account  of,  the  court  of  jus- 
tice I  have  just  mentioned,  there  could  be  no  in- 
formers among  us,  for  Barop  only  half  listened  to 
the  accuser,  and  often  sent  him  harshly  from  the 
room  without  summoning  the  school-mate  whom 
he  accused.  Besides,  we  ourselves  knew  how  to 
punish  the  sycophant  so  that  he  took  good  care 
not  to  act  as  tale-bearer  a  second  time. 


168  THE  STORY   OF    MY    LIFE. 

Manners,  and  Froebel's  Kindergarten. 

The  wives  of  the  teachers  had  even  more  to  do 
with  our  deportment  than  the  dancing-master,  es- 
pecially Frau  Barop  and  her  husband's  sister  Frau 
von  Born,  who  had  settled  in  Keilhau  on  account 
of  having  her  sons  educated  there. 

The  fact  that  the  head-master's  daughters  and 
several  girls,  who  were  friends  or  relatives  of  his 
family,  shared  many  of  our  lessons,  :.lso  contrib- 
uted essentially  to  soften  the  manners  of  the  young 
German  savages. 

I  mention  our  "  manners  "  especially  because, 
as  I  afterwards  learned,  they  had  been  the  subject 
of  sharp  differences  of  opinion  between  Friedrich 
Froebel  and  Langethal,  and  because  the  arguments 
of  the  former  are  so  characteristic  that  I  deem 
them  worthy  of  record. 

There  could  be  no  lack  of  delicacy  of  feeling 
on  the  part  of  the  founder  of  the  kindergarten 
system,  who  had  said,  "  If  you  are  talking  with 
any  one,  and  your  child  comes  to  ask  you  about 
anything  which  interests  him,  break  off  your  con- 
versation, no  matter  what  may  be  the  rank  of  the 
person  who  is  speaking  to  you,"  and  who  also  di- 
rected that  the  child  should  receive  not  only  love 
but  respect.  The  first  postulate  shows  that  he  val- 
ued the  demands  of  the  soul  far  above  social  forms. 
Thus  it  happened  that  during  the  first  years  of  the 


IDEAL  OF   EDUCATION.  ^9 

institute,  which  he  then  governed  himself,  he  was 
reproached  with  paying  too  little  attention  to  the 
outward  forms,  the  "behaviour,"  the  manners  of 
the  boys  entrusted  to  his  care.  His  characteristic 
answer  was  :  "  I  place  no  value  on  these  forms  un- 
less they  depend  upon  and  express  the  inner  self. 
Where  that  is  thoroughly  trained  for  life  and  work, 
externals  may  be  left  to  themselves,  and  will  sup- 
plement the  other."  The  opponent  admits  this, 
but  declares  that  the  Keilhau  method,  which  made 
no  account  of  outward  form,  may  defer  this  "  sup- 
plement" in  a  way  disastrous  to  certain  pupils. 
Froebel's  answer  is  :  "  Certainly,  a  wax  pear  can 
be  made  much  more  quickly  and  is  just  as  beauti- 
ful as  those  on  the  tree,  which  require  a  much 
longer  time  to  ripen.  But  the  wax  pear  is  only  to 
look  at,  can  barely  be  touched,  far  less  could  it  af- 
ford refreshment  to  the  thirsty  and  the  sick.  It  is 
empty — a  mere  nothing!  The  child's  nature,  it  is 
said,  resembles  wax.  Very  well,  we  don't  grudge 
wax  fruits  to  any  one  who  likes  them.  But  noth- 
ing must  be  expected  from  them  if  we  are  ill  and 
thirsty  ;  and  what  is  to  become  of  them  when  temp- 
tations and  trials  come,  and  to  whom  do  they  not 
come  ?  Our  educational  products  must  mature 
slowly,  but  thoroughly,  to  genuine  human  beings 
whose  inner  selves  will  be  deficient  in  no  respect. 
Let  the  tailor  provide  for  the  clothes." 

Froebel  himself  was  certainly  very  careless  in 


170  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

the  choice  of  his.  The  long  cloth  coat  in  which 
I  always  saw  him  was  fashioned  by  the  village 
tailor,  and  the  old  gentleman  probably  liked  the 
garment  because  half  a  dozen  children  hung  by 
the  tails  when  he  crossed  the  court-yard.  It  need- 
ed to  be  durable  ;  but  the  well-fitting  coats  worn 
by  Barop  and  Langethal  were  equally  so,  and  both 
men  believed  that  the  good  gardener  should  also 
care  for  the  form  of  the  fruit  he  cultivates,  because, 
when  ripe,  it  is  more  valuable  if  it  looks  well. 
They,  too,  cared  nothing  for  wax  fruits  ;  nay,  did 
not  even  consider  them  because  they  did  not  rec- 
ognize them  as  fruit  at  all. 

Froebel's  conversion  was  delayed,  but  after  his 
marriage  it  was  all  the  more  thorough.  The  choice 
of  this  intellectual  and  kindly  natured  man,  who  set 
no  value  on  the  external  forms  of  life,  was,  I  might 
say,  "  naturally  "  a  very  elegant  woman,  a  native 
of  Berlin,  the  widow  of  the  Kriegsrath  Hofmeister. 
She  speedily  opened  Froebel's  eyes  to  the  aesthetic 
and  artistic  element  in  the  lives  of  the  boys  en- 
trusted to  his  care — the  element  to  which  Lange- 
thal, from  the  time  of  his  entrance  into  the  institu- 
tion, had  directed  his  attention. 

So  in  Keilhau,  too,  woman  was  to  pave  the  way 
to  greater  refinement. 

This  had  occurred  long  before  our  entrance  into 
the  institution.  Froebel  did  not  allude  to  wax 
pears  now  when  he  saw  the  pupils  well  dressed 


IDEAL   OF    EDUCATION. 


171 


and  courteous  in  manner ;  nay,  afterwards,  in  es- 
tablishing the  kindergarten,  he  praised  and  sought 
to  utilize  the  comprehensive  influence  upon  hu- 
manity of  "  woman,"  the  guardian  of  lofty  morality. 
Wives  and  mothers  owe  him  as  great  a  debt  of 
gratitude  as  children,  and  should  never  forget  the 
saying,  "  The  mother's  heart  alone  is  the  true 
source  of  the  welfare  of  the  child,  and  the  salva- 
tion of  humanity."  The  fundamental  necessity  of 
the  hour  is  to  prepare  this  soil  for  the  noble  human 
blossom,  and  render  it  fit  for  its  mission." 

To  meet  the  need  mentioned  in  this  sentence 
the  whole  labour  of  the  evening  of  his  life  was  de- 
voted. Amid  many  cares  and  in  defiance  of  strong 
opposition  he  exerted  his  best  powers  for  the  reali- 
zation of  his  ideal,  finding  courage  to  do  so  in  the 
conviction  uttered  in  the  saying,  "  Only  through 
the  pure  hands  and  full  hearts  of  wives  and 
mothers  can  the  kingdom  of  God  become  a 
reality." 

Unfortunately,  I  cannot  enter  more  comprehen- 
sively here  into  the  details  of  the  kindergarten 
system — it  is  connected  with  Keilhau  only  in  so 
far  that  both  were  founded  by  the  same  man.  Old 
Froebel  was  often  visited  there  by  female  kinder- 
garten teachers  and  pedagogues  who  wished  to 
learn  something  of  this  new  institute.  We  called 
the  former  "  Schakelinen  "  ;  the  latter,  according  to 
a  popular  etymology,  "  Schakale."  The  odd  name 


172  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

bestowed  upon  the  female  kindergarten  teachers 
was  derived,  as  I  learned  afterwards,  from  no  beast 
of  prey,  but  from  a  figure  in  Jean  Paul's  4<  Levana," 
endowed  with  beautiful  gifts.  Her  name  is  Ma- 
dame Jacqueline,  and  she  was  used  by  the  author 
to  give  expression  to  his  own  opinions  of  female 
education.  Froebel  has  adopted  many  suggestions 
of  Jean  Paul,  but  the  idea  of  the  kindergarten  arose 
from  his  own  unhappy  childhood.  He  wished  to 
make  the  first  five  years  of  life,  which  to  him  had 
been  a  chain  of  sorrows,  happy  and  fruitful  to 
children — especially  to  those  who,  like  him,  were 
motherless. 

Sullen  tempers,  the  rod,  and  the  strictest,  al- 
most cruel,  constraint  had  overshadowed  his  child- 
hood, and  now  his  effort  was  directed  towards  hav- 
ing the  whole  world  of  little  people  join  joyously 
in  his  favourite  cry,  "  Friede,  Freude,  Freiheit !  " 
(Peace,  Pleasure,  Liberty),  which  corresponds  with 
the  motto  of  the  Jahn  gymnasium,  "  Frisch,  fromm, 
frohlich,  frei." 

He  also  desired  to  utilize  for  public  instruction 
the  educational  talents  which  woman  undoubtedly 
possesses. 

As  in  his  youth,  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  Pes- 
talozzi,  he  had  striven  to  rear  growing  boys  in  a 
motherly  fashion  to  be  worthy  men,  he  now  wished 
to  turn  to  account,  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole 
wide  circle  of  younger  children,  the  trait  of  ma- 


IDEAL   OF   EDUCATION. 


173 


ternal  solicitude  which  exists  in  every  woman. 
Women  were  to  be  trained  for  teachers,  and  the 
places  where  children  received  their  first  instruc- 
tion were  to  resemble  nurseries  as  closely  as  possi- 
ble. He  also  desired  to  see  the  maternal  tone  pre- 
vail in  this  instruction. 

He,  through  whose  whole  life  had  run  the  echo 
of  the  Saviour's  words,  "  Suffer  little  children  to 
come  unto  me,"  understood  the  child's  nature,  and 
knew  that  its  impulse  to  play  must  be  used,  in 
order  to  afford  it  suitable  future  nourishment  for 
the  mind  and  soul. 

The  instruction,  the  activity,  and  the  move- 
ments of  the  child  should  be  associated  with  the 
things  which  most  interest  him,  and  meanwhile  it 
should  be  constantly  employed  in  some  creative 
occupation  adapted  to  its  intelligence. 

If,  for  instance,  butter  was  spoken  of,  by  the 
help  of  suitable  motions  the  cow  was  milked,  the 
milk  was  poured  into  a  pan  and  skimmed,  the 
cream  was  churned,  the  butter  was  made  into  pats 
and  finally  sent  to  market.  Then  came  the  pay- 
ment, which  required  little  accounts.  When  the 
game  was  over,  a  different  one  followed,  perhaps 
something  which  rendered  the  little  hands  skilful 
by  preparing  fine  weaving  from  strips  of  paper ; 
for  Froebel  had  perceived  that  change  brought 
rest. 

Every  kindergarten  should  have  a  small  garden, 


174 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 


to  afford  an  opportunity  to  watch  the  development 
of  the  plants,  though  only  one  at  a  time — for  in- 
stance, the  bean.  By  watching  the  clouds  in  the 
sky  he  directed  the  childisJLJnjtellig£n£e._tQ_thejr_iv- 
ers,  seas,  and  circulation  of  moisture.  In  the  au- 
tumn the  observation  of  the  chrysalis  state  of  in- 
sects was  connected  with  that  of  the  various  stages 
of  their  existence. 

In  this  way  the  child  can  be  guided  in  its  play 
to  a  certain  creative  activity,  rendered  familiar 
with  the  life  of  Nature,  the  claims  of  the  household, 
the  toil  of  the  peasants,  mechanics,  etc.,  and  at  the 
same  time  increase  its  dexterity  in  using  its  fingers 
and  the  suppleness  of  its  body.  It  learns  to  play, 
to  obey,  and  to  submit  to  the  rules  of  the  school, 
and  is  protected  from  the  contradictory  orders  of 
unreasonable  mothers  and  nurses. 

Women  and  girls,  too,  were  benefitted  by  the 
kindergarten. 

Mothers,  whose  time,  inclination,  or  talents, 
forbade  them  to  devote  sufficient  time  to  the  child, 
were  relieved  by  the  kindergarten.  Girls  learned, 
as  if  in  a  preparatory  school  of  future  wife  and 
motherhood,  how  to  give  the  little  one  what  it 
needed,  and,  as  Froebel  expresses  it,  to  become  the 
mediators  between  Nature  and  mind. 

Yet  even  this  enterprise,  the  outcome  of  pure 
love  for  the  most  innocent  and  harmless  creatures, 
was  prohibited  and  persecuted  as  perilous  to  the 


FOUNDERS   OF   THE    KEILHAU    INSTITUTE.   175 

state  under  Frederick  William  IV,  during  the  pe- 
riod of  the  reaction  which  followed  the  insurrection 
of  1848. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE    FOUNDERS    OF    THE    KEILHAU    INSTITUTE,   AND 
A    GLIMPSE    AT    THE    HISTORY    OF    THE    SCHOOL. 

I  WAS  well  acquainted  with  the  three  founders 
of  our  institute — Friedrich  Froebel,  Middendorf, 
and  Langethal  —  and  the  two  latter  were  my 
teachers.  Froebel  was  decidedly  "  the  master  who 
planned  it." 

When  we  came  to  Keilhau  he  was  already  sixty- 
six  years  old,  a  man  of  lofty  stature,  with  a  face 
which  seemed  to  be  carved  with  a  dull  knife  out  of 
brown  wood. 

His  long  nose,  strong  chin,  and  large  ears,  be- 
hind which  the  long  locks,  parted  in  the  middle, 
were  smoothly  brushed,  would  have  rendered  him 
positively  ugly,  had  not  his  "  Come,  let  us  live  for 
our  children,"  beamed  so  invitingly  in  his  clear 
eyes.  People  did  not  think  whether  he  was  hand- 
some or  not ;  his  features  bore  the  impress  of  his 
intellectual  power  so  distinctly  that  the  first  glance 
revealed  the  presence  of  a  remarkable  man. 

Yet  I  must  confess — and  his  portrait  agrees  with 
my  memory — that  his  face  by  no  means  suggested 


176  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

the  idealist  and  man  of  feeling;  it  seemed  rather 
expressive  of  shrewdness,  and  to  have  been  lined 
and  worn  by  severe  conflicts  concerning  the  most 
diverse  interests.  But  his  voice  and  his  glance 
were  unusually  winning,  and  his  power  over  the 
heart  of  the  child  was  limitless.  A  few  words  were 
sufficient  to  win  completely  the  shyest  boy  whom 
he  desired  to  attract ;  and  thus  it  happened  that, 
even  when  he  had  been  with  us  only  a  few  weeks, 
he  was  never  seen  crossing  the  court-yard  without 
a  group  of  the  younger  pupils  hanging  to  his  coat- 
tails  and  clasping  his  hands  and  arms. 

Usually  they  were  persuading  him  to  tell  sto- 
ries, and  when  he  condescended  to  do  so,  older  ones 
flocked  around  him  too,  and  they  were  never  dis- 
appointed. What  fire,  what  animation  the  old  man 
had  retained  !  We  never  called  him  anything  but 
"Oheim."  The  word  "Onkel"  he  detested  as 
foreign,  because  it  was  derived  from  "  avuncu- 
lus"  and  "oncle."  With  the  high  appreciation 
he  had  of  "Tante  " — whom  he  termed,  next  to  the 
mother,  the  most  important  factor  of  education  in 
the  family — our  "  Oheim  "  was  probably  specially 
agreeable  to  him. 

He  was  thoroughly  a  self-made  man.  The  son 
of  a  pastor  in  Oberweissbach,  in  Thuringia,  he  had 
had  a  dreary  childhood  ;  for  his  mother  died  young, 
and  he  soon  had  a  step-mother,  who  treated  him 
with  the  utmost  tenderness  until  her  own  children 


FOUNDERS   OF   THE    KEILHAU    INSTITUTE,   j-j 

were  born.  Then  an  indescribably  sad  time  began 
for  the  neglected  boy,  whose  dreamy  temperament 
vexed  even  his  own  father.  Yet  in  this  solitude 
his  love  for  Nature  awoke.  He  studied  plants,  ani- 
mals, minerals;  and  while  his  young  heart  vainly 
longed  for  love,  he  would  have  gladly  displayed 
affection  himself,  if  his  timidity  would  have  per- 
mitted him  to  do  so.  His  family,  seeing  him  pre- 
fer to  dissect  the  bones  of  some  animal  rather  than 
to  talk  with  his  parents,  probably  considered  him 
a  very  unlovable  child  when  they  sent  him,  in  his 
tenth  year,  to  school  in  the  city  of  Ilm. 

He  was  received  into  the  home  of  the  pastor, 
his  uncle  Hoffman,  whose  mother-in-law,  who  kept 
the  house,  treated  him  in  the  most  cordial  manner, 
and  helped  him  to  conquer  the  diffidence  acquired 
during  the  solitude  of  the  first  years  of  his  child- 
hood. This  excellent  woman  first  made  him  famil- 
iar with  the  maternal  feminine  solicitude,  closer 
observation  of  which  afterwards  led  him,  as  well 
as  Pestalozzi,  to  a  reform  of  the  system  of  educat- 
ing youth. 

In  his  sixteenth  year  he  went  to  a  forester  for 
instruction,  but  did  not  remain  long.  Meantime 
he  had  gained  some  mathematical  knowledge,  and 
devoted  himself  to  surveying.  By  this  and  similar 
work  he  earned  a  living,  until,  at  the  end  of  seven 
years,  he  went  to  Frankfort-on-the-Main  to  learn 
the  rudiments  of  building.  There  Fate  brought 


178  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

him  into  contact  with  the  pedagogue  Gruner,  a 
follower  of  Pestalozzi's  method,  and  this  experi- 
enced man,  after  their  first  conversation,  exclaimed: 

"  You  must  become  a  schoolmaster !  " 

I  have  often  noticed  in  life  that  a  word  at 
the  right  time  and  place  has  sufficed  to  give  the 
destiny  of  a  human  being  a  different  turn,  and  the 
remark  of  the  Frankfort  educator  fell  into  Froe- 
bel's  soul  like  a  spark.  He  now  saw  his  real  pro- 
fession clearly  and  distinctly  before  him. 

The  restless  years  of  wandering,  during  which, 
unloved  and  scarcely  heeded,  he  had  been  thrust 
from  one  place  to  another,  had  awakened  in  his 
warm  heart  a  longing  to  keep  others  from  the  same 
fate.  He,  who  had  been  guided  by  no  kind  hand 
and  felt  miserable  and  at  variance  with  himself, 
had  long  been  ceaselessly  troubled  by  the  problem 
of  how  the  young  human  plant  could  be  trained  to 
harmony  with  itself  and  to  sturdy  industry.  Gruner 
showed  him  that  others  were  already  devoting 
their  best  powers  to  solve  it,  and  offered  him  an 
opportunity  to  try  his  ability  in  his  model  school. 

Froebel  joyfully  accepted  this  offer,  cast  aside 
every  other  thought,  and,  with  the  enthusiasm  pe- 
culiar to  him,  threw  himself  into  the  new  calling 
in  a  manner  which  led  Gruner  to  praise  the  "  fire 
and  life "  he  understood  how  to  awaken  in  his 
pupils.  He  also  left  it  to  Froebel  to  arrange  the 
plan  of  instruction  which  the  Frankfort  Senate 


FOUNDERS   OF    THE    KEILHAU    INSTITUTE. 


179 


wanted  for  the  "  model  school,"  and  succeeded  in 
keeping  him  two  years  in  his  institution. 

When  a  certain  Frau  von  Holzhausen  was  look- 
ing for  a  man  who  would  have  the  ability  to  lead  her 
spoiled  sons  into  the  right  path,  and  Froebel  had 
been  recommended,  he  separated  from  Gruner  and 
performed  his  task  with  rare  fidelity  and  a  skill 
bordering  upon  genius.  The  children,  who  were 
physically  puny,  recovered  under  his  care,  and  the 
grateful  mother  made  him  their  private  tutor  from 
1807  till  1810.  He  chose  Verdun,  where  Pesta- 
lozzi  was  then  living,  as  his  place  of  residence,  and 
made  himself  thoroughly  familiar  with  his  method 
of  education.  As  a  whole,  he  could  agree  with 
him ;  but,  as  has  already  been  mentioned,  in  some 
respects  he  went  further  than  the  Swiss  reformer. 
He  himself  called  these  years  his  "  university 
course  as  a  pedagogue,"  but  they  also  furnished 
him  with  the  means  to  continue  the  studies  in  nat- 
ural history  which  he  had  commenced  in  Jena.  He 
had  laid  aside  for  this  purpose  part  of  his  salary 
as  tutor,  and  was  permitted,  from  1810  to  1812,  to 
complete  in  Gottingen  his  astronomical  and  min- 
eralogical  studies.  Yet  the  wish  to  try  his  powers 
as  a  pedagogue  never  deserted  him ;  and  when,  in 
1812,  the  position  of  teacher  in  the  Plamann  Insti- 
tute in  Berlin  was  offered  him,  he  accepted  it.  Dur- 
ing his  leisure  hours  he  devoted  himself  to  gym- 
nastic exercises,  and  even  late  in  life  his  eyes 


l8o  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

sparkled  when  he  spoke  of  his  friend,  old  Jahn, 
and  the  political  elevation  of  Prussia. 

When  the  summons  "  To  my  People  "  called  the 
German  youth  to  war,  Froebel  had  already  entered 
his  thirty-first  year,  but  this  did  not  prevent  his  re- 
signing his  office  and  being  one  of  the  first  to  take 
up  arms.  He  went  to  the  field  with  the  Liitzow 
Jagers,  and  soon  after  made  the  acquaintance 
among  his  comrades  of  the  theological  students 
Langethal  and  Middendorf.  When,  after  the  Peace 
of  Paris,  the  young  friends  parted,  they  vowed 
eternal  fidelity,  and  each  solemnly  promised  to  obey 
the  other's  summons,  should  it  ever  come.  As  soon 
as  Froebel  took  off  the  dark  uniform  of  the  black 
Jagers  he  received  a  position  as  curator  of  the 
museum  of  mineralogy  in  the  Berlin  University, 
which  he  filled  so  admirably  that  the  position  of 
Professor  of  Mineralogy  was  offered  to  him  from 
Sweden.  But  he  declined,  for  another  vocation 
summoned  him  which  duty  and  inclination  forbade 
him  to  refuse. 

His  brother,  a  pastor  in  the  Thuringian  village 
of  Griesheim  on  the  Ilm,  died,  leaving  three  sons 
who  needed  an  instructor.  The  widow  wished  her 
brother-in-law  Friedrich  to  fill  this  office,  and  an- 
other brother,  a  farmer  in  Osterode,  wanted  his  two 
boys  to  join  the  trio.  When  Froebel,  in  the  spring 
of  1817,  resigned  his  position,  his  friend  Langethal 
begged  him  to  take  his  brother  Eduard  as  another 


FOUNDERS   OF    THE    KEILHAU    INSTITUTE,   igl 

pupil,  and  thus  Pestalozzi's  enthusiastic  disciple 
and  comrade  found  his  dearest  wish  fulfilled.  He 
was  now  the  head  of  his  own  school  for  boys,  and 
these  first  six  pupils — as  he  hoped  with  the  confi- 
dence in  the  star  of  success  peculiar  to  so  many  men 
of  genius — must  soon  increase  to  twenty.  Some 
of  these  boys  were  specially  gifted  :  one  became  the 
scholar  and  politician  Julius  Froebel,  who  belonged 
to  the  Frankfort  Parliament  of  1848,  and  another 
the  Jena  Professor  of  Botany,  Eduard  Langethal. 

The  new  principal  of  the  school  could  not  teach 
alone,  but  he  only  needed  to  remind  his  old  army 
comrade,  Middendorf,  of  his  promise,  to  induce  him 
to  interrupt  his  studies  in  Berlin,  which  were  nearly 
completed,  and  join  him.  He  also  had  his  eye  on 
Langethal,  if  his  hope  should  be  fulfilled.  He 
knew  what  a  treasure  he  would  possess  for  his  ob- 
ject in  this  rare  man. 

There  was  great  joy  in  the  little  Griesheim 
circle,  and  the  Thuringian  (Froebel)  did  not  regret 
for  a  moment  that  he  had  resigned  his  secure  posi- 
tion ;  but  the  Westphalian  (Middendorf)  saw  here 
the  realization  of  the  ideal  which  Froebel's  kindling 
words  had  impressed  upon  his  soul  beside  many 
a  watch-fire. 

The  character  of  the  two  men  is  admirably  de- 
scribed in  the  following  passage  from  a  letter  of 
"  the  oldest  pupil  "  : 

"  Both  had  seen  much  of  the  serious  side  of  life, 


!g2  THE    STORY   OF    MY    LIFE. 

and  returned  from  the  war  with  the  higher  inspira- 
tion which  is  hallowed  by  deep  religious  feeling. 
The  idea  of  devoting  their  powers  with  self-denial 
and  sacrifice  to  the  service  of  their  native  land  had 
become  a  fixed  resolution  ;  the  devious  paths  which 
so  many  men  entered  were  far  from  their  thoughts. 
The  youth,  the  young  generation  of  their  native 
land,  were  alone  worthy  of  their  efforts.  They 
meant  to  train  them  to  a  harmonious  development 
of  mind  and  body;  and  upon  these  young  people 
their  pure  spirit  of  patriotism  exerted  a  vast  influ- 
ence. When  we  recall  the  mighty  power  which 
Froebel  could  exercise  at  pleasure  over  his  fellow- 
men,  and  especially  over  children,  we  shall  deem  it 
natural  that  a  child  suddenly  transported  into  this 
circle  could  forget  its  past." 

When  I  entered  it,  though  at  that  time  it  was 
much  modified  and  established  on  firm  foundations, 
I  met  with  a  similar  experience.  It  was  not  only 
the  open  air,  the  forest,  the  life  in  Nature  which  so 
captivated  new  arrivals  at  Keilhau,  but  the  moral 
earnestness  and  the  ideal  aspiration  which  con- 
secrated and  ennobled  life.  Then,  too,  there  was 
that  "  nerve-strengthening"  patriotism  which  per- 
vaded everything,  filling  the  place  of  the  superficial 
philanthropy  of  the  Basedow  system  of  education. 

But  Froebel's  influence  was  soon  to  draw,  as  if 
by  magnetic  power,  the  man  who  had  formed  an 
alliance  with  him  amid  blood  and  steel,  and  who 


FOUNDERS  OF   THE   KEILHAU   INSTITUTE.  183 

was  destined  to  lend  the  right  solidity  to  the  newly 
erected  structure  of  the  institute — I  mean  Heinrich 
Langethal,  the  most  beloved  and  influential  of  my 
teachers,  who  stood  beside  Froebel's  inspiring  ge- 
nius and  Middendorf's  lovable  warmth  of  feeling  as 
the  character,  and  at  the  same  time  the  fully  de- 
veloped and  trained  intellect,  whose  guidance  was 
so  necessary  to  the  institute. 

The  life  of  this  rare  teacher  can  be  followed 
step  by  step  from  the  first  years  of  his  childhood  in 
his  autobiography  and  many  other  documents,  but 
I  can  only  attempt  here  to  sketch  in  broad  out- 
lines the  character  of  the  man  whose  influence  upon 
my  whole  inner  life  has  been,  up  to  the  present 
hour,  a  decisive  one. 

The  recollection  of  him  makes  me  inclined  to 
agree  with  the  opinion  to  which  a  noble  lady  sought 
to  convert  me — namely,  that  our  lives  are  far  more 
frequently  directed  into  a  certain  channel  by  the 
influence  of  an  unusual  personality  than  by  events, 
experiences,  or  individual  reflections. 

Langethal  was  my  teacher  for  several  years. 
When  I  knew  him  he  was  totally  blind,  and  his 
eyes,  which  are  said  to  have  flashed  so  brightly  and 
boldly  on  the  foe  in  war,  and  gazed  so  winningly 
into  the  faces  of  friends  in  time  of  peace,  had  lost 
their  lustre.  But  his  noble  features  seemed  trans- 
figured by  the  cheerful  earnestness  which  is  pecul- 
iar to  the  old  man,  who,  even  though  only  with 
13 


1 84  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

the  eye  of  the  mind,  looks  back  upon  a  well-spent, 
worthy  life,  and  who  does  not  fear  death,  because 
he  knows  that  God  who  leads  all  to  the  goal 
allotted  by  Nature  destined  him  also  for  no  other. 
His  tall  figure  could  vie  with  Barop's,  and  his  mu- 
sical voice  was  unusually  deep.  It  possessed  a  re- 
sistless power  when,  excited  himself,  he  desired  to 
fill  our  young  souls  with  his  own  enthusiasm.  The 
blind  old- man,  who  had  nothing  more  to  command 
and  direct,  moved  through  our  merry,  noisy  life 
like  a  silent  admonition  to  good  and  noble  things. 
Outside  of  the  lessons  he  never  raised  his  voice  for 
orders  or  censure,  yet  we  obediently  followed  his 
signs.  To  be  allowed  to  lead  him  was  an  honor 
and  pleasure.  He  made  us  acquainted  with  Homer, 
and  taught  us  ancient  and  modern  history.  To 
this  day  I  rejoice  that  not  one  of  us  ever  thought 
of  using  a pons  asinorutn,  or  copied  passage,  though 
he  was  perfectly  sightless,  and  we  were  obliged  to 
translate  to  him  and  learn  by  heart  whole  sections 
of  the  Iliad.  To  have  done  so  would  have  seemed 
as  shameful  as  the  pillage  of  an  unguarded  sanctu- 
ary or  the  abuse  of  a  wounded  hero. 

And  he  certainly  was  one! 

We  knew  this  from  his  comrades  in  the  war  and 
his  stories  of  1813,  which  were  at  once  so  vivid  and 
so  modest. 

When  he  explained  Homer  or  taught  ancient 
history  a  special  fervor  animated  him;  for  he  was 


FOUNDERS  OF    THE    KEILHAU    INSTITUTE.    185 

one  of  the  chosen  few  whose  eyes  were  opened  by 
destiny  to  the  full  beauty  and  sublimity  of  ancient 
Greece. 

I  have  listened  at  the  university  to  many  a 
famous  interpreter  of  the  Hellenic  and  Roman 
poets,  and  many  a  great  historian,  but  not  one  of 
them  ever  gave  me  so  distinct  an  impression  of 
living  with  the  ancients  as  Heinrich  Langethal. 
There  was  something  akin  to  them  in  his  pure, 
lofty  soul,  ever  thirsting  for  truth  and  beauty,  and, 
besides,  he  had  graduated  from  the  school  of  a  most 
renowned  teacher. 

The  outward  aspect  of  the  tall  old  man  was 
eminently  aristocratic,  yet  his  birthplace  was  the 
house  of  a  plain  though  prosperous  mechanic.  He 
was  born  at  Erfurt,  in  1792.  When  very  young  his 
father,  a  man  unusually  sensible  and  well-informed 
for  his  station  in  life,  entrusted  him  with  the  educa- 
tion of  a  younger  brother,  the  one  who,  as  I  have 
mentioned,  afterwards  became  a  professor  at  Jena, 
and  the  boy's  progress  was  so  rapid  that  other 
parents  had  requested  to  have  thier  sons  share  the 
hours  of  instruction. 

After  completing  his  studies  at  the  grammar- 
school  he  wanted  to  go  to  Berlin,  for,  though  the 
once  famous  university  still  existed  in  Erfurt,  it  had 
greatly  deteriorated.  His  description  of  it  is  half 
lamentable,  half  amusing,  for  at  that  time  it  was 
attended  by  thirty  students,  for  whom  seventy 


1 86  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

professors  were  employed.  Nevertheless,  there 
were  many  obstacles  to  be  surmounted  ere  he 
could  obtain  permission  to  attend  the  Berlin  Uni- 
versity; for  the  law  required  every  native  of 
Erfurt,  who  intended  afterwards  to  aspire  to  any 
office,  to  study  at  least  two  years  in  his  native  city 
— at  that  time  French.  But,  in  defiance  of  all  hin- 
drances, he  found  his  way  to  Berlin,  and  in  1811 
was  entered  in  the  university  just  established  there 
as  the  first  student  from  Erfurt.  He  wished  to  de- 
vote himself  to  theology,  and  Neander,  De  Wette, 
Marheineke,  Schleiermacher,  etc.,  must  have  ex- 
erted a  great  power  of  attraction  over  a  young 
man  who  desired  to  pursue  that  study. 

At  the  latter's  lectures  he  became  acquainted 
with  Middendorf.  At  first  he  obtained  little  from 
either.  Schleiermacher  seemed  to  him  too  tem- 
porizing and  obscure.  "He  makes  veils."*  He 
thought  the  young  Westphalian,  at  their  first  meet- 
ing, merely  "  a  nice  fellow."  But  in  time  he  learned 
to  understand  the  great  theologian,  and  the  "fa- 
vourite teacher  "  noticed  him  and  took  him  into 
his  house. 

But  first  Fichte,  and  then  Friedrich  August 
Wolf,  attracted  him  far  more  powerfully  than 
Schleiermacher.  Whenever  he  spoke  of  Wolf  his 
calm  features  glowed  and  his  blind  eyes  seemed  to 


A  play  upon  the  name,  which  means  veil-maker. 


FOUNDERS  OF   THE    KEILHAU    INSTITUTE.   187 

sparkle.  He  owed  all  that  was  best  in  him  to  the 
great  investigator,  who  sharpened  his  pupil's  ap- 
preciation of  the  exhaustless  store  of  lofty  ideas 
and  the  magic  of  beauty  contained  in  classic  an- 
tiquity, and  had  he  been  allowed  to  follow  his  own 
inclination,  he  would  have  turned  his  back  on  the- 
ology, to  devote  all  his  energies  to  the  pursuit  of 
philology  and  archaeology. 

The  Homeric  question  which  Wolf  had  pro- 
pounded in  connection  with  Goethe,  and  which  at 
that  time  stirred  the  whole  learned  world,  had  also 
moved  Langethal  so  deeply  that,  even  when  an 
old  man,  he  enjoyed  nothing  more  than  to  speak  of 
it  to  us  and  make  us  familiar  with  the  pros  and 
cons  which  rendered  him  an  upholder  of  his  re- 
vered teacher.  He  had  been  allowed  to  attend 
the  lectures  on  the  first  four  books  of  the  Iliad,  and 
— I  have  living  witnesses  of  the  fact — he  knew 
them  all  verse  by  verse,  and  corrected  us  when  we 
read  or  recited  them  as  if  he  had  the  copy  in  his 
hand. 

True,  he  refreshed  his  naturally  excellent 
memory  by  having  them  all  read  aloud.  I  shall 
never  forget  his  joyous  mirth  as  he  listened  to  my 
delivery  of  Wolf's  translation  of  Aristophanes's 
Acharnians ;  but  I  was  pleased  that  he  selected  me 
to  supply  the  dear  blind  eyes.  Whenever  he  called 
me  for  this  purpose  he  already  had  the  book  in  the 
side  pocket  of  his  long  coat,  and  when,  beckon- 


1 88  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

ing  significantly,  he  cried,  "  Come,  Bear,"  I  knew 
what  was  before  me,  and  would  have  gladly  re- 
signed the  most  enjoyable  game,  though  he  some- 
times had  books  read  which  were  by  no  means  easy 
for  me  to  understand.  I  was  then  fourteen  or  fif- 
teen years  old. 

Need  I  say  that  it  was  my  intercourse  with  this 
man  which  implanted  in  my  heart  the  love  of  ancient 
days  that  has  accompanied  me  throughout  my  life  ? 

The  elevation  of  the  Prussian  nation  led  Lan- 
gethal  also  from  the  university  to  the  war.  Ru- 
mor first  brought  to  Berlin  the  tidings  of  the  de- 
struction of  the  great  army  on  the  icy  plains  of 
Russia;  then  its  remnants,  starving,  worn,  ragged, 
appeared  in  the  capital ;  and  the  street-boys,  who 
not  long  before  had  been  forced  by  the  French 
soldiers  to  clean  their  boots,  now  with  little  gen- 
erosity—  they  were  only  "street-boys" — shout- 
ed sneeringly,  "  Say,  mounseer,  want  your  boots 
blacked  ? " 

Then  came  the  news  of  the  convention  of  York, 
and  at  last  the  irresolute  king  put  an  end  to  the 
doubts  and  delays  which  probably  stirred  the  blood 
of  every  one  who  is  familiar  with  Droysen's  classic 
"Life  of  Field-Marshal  York."  From  Breslau  came 
the  summons  "To  my  People,"  which,  like  a  warm 
spring  wind,  melted  the  ice  and  woke  in  the  hearts 
of  the  German  youth  a  matchless  budding  and 
blossoming. 


FOUNDERS  OF   THE    KEILHAU   INSTITUTE.  189 

The  snow-drops  which  bloomed  during  those 
March  days  of  1813  ushered  in  the  long-desired 
day  of  freedom,  and  the  call  "  To  arms !  "  found 
the  loudest  echo  in  the  hearts  of  the  students.  It 
stirred  the  young,  yet  even  in  those  days  circum- 
spect Langethal,  too,  and  showed  him  his  duty 
But  difficulties  confronted  him;  for  Pastor  Rit- 
schel,  a  native  of  Erfurt,  to  whom  he  confided  his 
intention,  warned  him  not  to  write  to  his  father. 
Erfurt,  his  own  birthplace,  was  still  under  French 
rule,  and  were  he  to  communicate  his  plan  in  writ- 
ing and  the  letter  should  be  opened  in  the  "  black 
room,"  with  other  suspicious  mail  matter,  it  might 
cost  the  life  of  the  man  whose  son  was  preparing 
to  commit  high-treason  by  fighting  against  the  ruler 
of  his  country — Napoleon,  the  Emperor  of  France. 
"  Where  will  you  get  the  uniform,  if  your  father 
won't  help  you,  and  you  want  to  join  the  black 
Ja'gers  ? "  asked  the  pastor,  and  received  the  an- 
swer : 

"  The  cape  of  my  cloak  will  supply  the  trousers. 
I  can  have  a  red  collar  put  on  my  cloak,  my  coat 
can  be  dyed  black  and  turned  into  a  uniform,  and 
I  have  a  hanger." 

"  That's  right !  "  cried  the  worthy  minister,  and 
gave  his  young  friend  ten  thalers. 

Middendorf,  too,  reported  to  the  Liitzow  Ja'gers 
at  once,  and  so  did  the  son  of  Professor  Beller- 
mann,  and  their  mutual  friend  Bauer,  spite  of  his 


190 


THE   STORY  OF   MY    LIFE. 


delicate  health,  which  seemed  to  unfit  him  for  any 
exertion. 

They  set  off  on  the  nth  of  April,  and  while  the 
spring  was  budding  alike  in  the  outside  world  and 
in  young  breasts,  a  new  flower  of  friendship  ex- 
panded in  the  hearts  of  these  three  champions  of 
the  same  sacred  cause;  for  Langethal  and  Midden- 
dorf  found  their  Froebel.  This  was  in  Dresden, 
and  the  league  formed  there  was  never  to  be  dis- 
solved. They  kept  their  eyes  fixed  steadfastly  on 
the  ideals  of  youth,  until  in  old  age  the  sight  of  all 
three  failed.  Part  of  the  blessings  which  were 
promised  to  the  nation  when  they  set  forth  to  battle 
they  were  permitted  to  see  seven  lustra  later,  in 
1848,  but  they  did  not  live  to  experience  the  realiza- 
tion of  their  fairest  youthful  dream,  the  union  of 
Germany. 

I  must  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  describing 
the  battles  and  the  marches  of  the  Liitzow  corps, 
which  extended  to  Aachen  and  Oudenarde;  but 
will  mention  here  that  Langethal  rose  to  the  rank 
of  sergeant,  and  had  to  perform  the  duties  of  a  first 
lieutenant ;  and  that,  towards  the  end  of  the  cam- 
paign, Middendorf  was  sent  with  Lieutenant  Reil 
to  induce  Bliicher  to  receive  the  corps  in  his  van- 
guard. The  old  commander  gratified  their  wish ; 
they  had  proved  their  fitness  for  the  post  when 
they  won  the  victory  at  the  Gohrde,  where  two 
thousand  Frenchmen  were  killed  and  as  many  more 


FOUNDERS  OF   THE   KEILHAU    INSTITUTE,  igi 

taken  prisoners.  The  sight  of  the  battle-field  had 
seemed  unendurable  to  the  gentle  nature  of  Mid- 
dendorf.  He  had  formed  a  poetical  idea  of  the 
campaign  as  an  expedition  against  the  heredita- 
ry foe.  Now  that  he  had  confronted  the  blood- 
stained face  of  war  with  all  its  horrors,  he  fell  into 
a  state  of  melancholy  from  which  he  could  scarcely 
rouse  himself. 

After  this  battle  the  three  friends  were  quartered 
in  Castle  Gohrde,  and  there  enjoyed  a  delightful 
season  of  rest  after  months  of  severe  hardships. 
Their  corps  had  been  used  as  the  extreme  van- 
guard against  Davoust's  force,  which  was  thrice 
their  superior  in  numbers,  and  in  consequence  they 
were  subjected  to  great  fatigues.  They  had  almost 
forgotten  how  it  seemed  to  sleep  in  a  bed  and  eat 
at  a  table.  One  night  march  had  followed  another. 
They  had  often  seized  their  food  from  the  kettles 
and  eaten  it  at  the  next  stopping-place,  but  all  was 
cheerfully  done;  the  light-heartedness  of  youth 
did  not  vanish  from  their  enthusiastic  hearts. 
There  was  even  no  lack  of  intellectual  aliment,  for 
a  little  field-library  had  been  established  by  the  ex- 
change of  books.  Langethal  told  us  of  his  night's 
rest  in  a  ditch,  which  was  to  entail  disastrous  con- 
sequences. Utterly  exhausted,  sleep  overpowered 
him  in  the  midst  of  a  pouring  rain,  and  when  he 
awoke  he  discovered  that  he  was  up  to  his  neck  in 
water.  His  damp  bed — the  ditch — had  gradually 


192 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 


filled,  but  the  sleep  was  so  profound  that  even  the 
rising  moisture  had  not  roused  him.  The  very  next 
morning  he  was  attacked  with  a  disease  of  the  eyes, 
to  which  he  attributed  his  subsequent  blindness. 

On  the  z6th  of  August  there  was  a  prospect  of 
improvement  in  the  condition  of  the  corps.  Da- 
voust  had  sent  forty  wagons  of  provisions  to  Ham- 
burg, and  the  men  were  ordered  to  capture  them. 
The  attack  was  successful,  but  at  what  a  price ! 
Theodor  Korner,  the  noble  young  poet  whose 
songs  will  commemorate  the  deeds  of  the  Lutzow 
corps  so  long  as  German  men  and  boys  sing  his 
"Thou  Sword  at  my  Side,"  or  raise  their  voices 
in  the  refrain  of  the  Lutzow  Jagers'  song : 

"  Do  you  ask  the  name  of  yon  reckless  band  ? 
'Tis  Liitzow's  black  troopers  dashing  swift  through  the  land  ! " 

Langethal  first  saw  the  body  of  the  author  of 
"  Lyre  and  Sword  "  and  "  Zriny  "  under  an  oak  at 
Wobbelin ;  but  he  was  to  see  it  once  more  under 
quite  different  circumstances.  He  has  mentioned 
it  in  his  autobiography,  and  I  have  heard  him  de- 
scribe several  times  his  visit  to  the  corpse  of  Theo- 
dor Korner. 

He  had  been  quartered  in  Wobbelin,  and  shared 
his  room  with  an  Oberjager  von  Behrenhorst,  son 
of  the  postmaster-general  in  Dessau,  who  had 
taken  part  in  the  battle  of  Jena  as  a  young  lieu- 
tenant and  returned  home  with  a  darkened  spirit. 


FOUNDERS   OF   THE    KEILHAU    INSTITUTE. 


193 


At  the  summons  "  To  my  People,"  he  had  enlisted 
at  once  as  a  private  soldier  in  the  Liitzow  corps, 
where  he  rose  rapidly  to  the  rank  of  Oberjager. 
During  the  war  he  had  often  met  Langethal  and 
Middendorf;  but  the  quiet,  reserved  man,  prema- 
turely grave  for  his  years,  attached  himself  so 
closely  to  Korner  that  he  needed  no  other  friend. 

After  the  death  of  the  poet  on  the  26th  of 
August,  1813,  he  moved  silently  about  as  though 
completely  crushed.  On  the  night  which  followed 
the  zyth  he  invited  his  room-mate  Langethal 
to  go  with  him  to  the  body  of  his  friend.  Both 
went  first  to  the  village  church,  where  the  dead 
Ja'gers  lay  in  two  long  black  rows.  A  solemn 
stillness  pervaded  the  little  house  of  God,  which 
had  become  during  this  night  the  abode  of  death, 
and  the  nocturnal  visitors  gazed  silently  at  the 
pallid,  rigid  features  of  one  lifeless  young  form 
after  another,  but  without  finding  him  whom  they 
sought. 

During  this  mute  review  of  corpses  it  seemed 
to  Langethal  as  if  Death  were  singing  a  deep,  heart- 
rending choral,  and  he  longed  to  pray  for  these 
young,  crushed  human  blossoms;  but  his  compan- 
ion led  the  way  into  the  guard's  little  room.  There 
lay  the  poet,  "  the  radiance  of  an  angel  on  his  face," 
though  his  body  bore  many  traces  of  the  fury  of 
the  battle.  Deeply  moved,  Langethal  stood  gazing 
down  upon  the  form  of  the  man  who  had  died  for 


i94 


THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 


his  native  land,  while  Behrenhorst  knelt  on  the 
floor  beside  him,  silently  giving  himself  up  to  the 
anguish  of  his  soul.  He  remained  in  this  attitude 
a  long  time,  then  suddenly  started  up,  threw  his 
arms  upward,  and  exclaimed,  "  Korner,  I'll  follow 
you ! " 

With  these  words  Behrenhorst  darted  out  of 
the  little  room  into  the  darkness;  and  a  few  weeks 
after  he,  too,  had  fallen  for  the  sacred  cause  of  his 
native  land. 

They  had  seen  another  beloved  comrade  perish 
in  the  battle  of  Go'hrde,  a  handsome  young  man  of 
delicate  figure  and  an  unusually  reserved  manner. 

Middendorf,  with  whom  he — his  name  was  Pro- 
haska — had  been  on  more  intimate  terms  than  the 
others,  once  asked  him,  when  he  timidly  avoided 
the  girls  and  women  who  cast  kindly  glances  at 
him,  if  his  heart  never  beat  faster,  and  received  the 
answer,  "  I  have  but  one  love  to  give,  and  that  be- 
longs to  our  native  land." 

While  the  battle  was  raging,  Middendorf  was 
fighting  close  beside  his  comrade.  When  the  ene- 
my fired  a  volley  the  others  stooped,  but  Prohaska 
stood  erect,  exclaiming,  when  he  was  warned,  "  No 
bowing !  I'll  make  no  obeisance  to  the  French  !  " 

A  few  minutes  after,  the  brave  soldier,  stricken 
by  a  bullet,  fell  on  the  greensward.  His  friends 
bore  him  off  the  field,  and  Prohaska — Eleonore  Pro- 
haska— proved  to  be  a  girl ! 


FOUNDERS  OF    THE    KEILHAU    INSTITUTE. 


195 


While  in  Castle  Gohrde,  Froebel  talked  with  his 
friends  about  his  favourite  plan,  which  he  had  al- 
ready had  in  view  in  Gottingen,  of  establishing  a 
school  for  boys,  and  while  developing  his  educa- 
tional ideal  to  them  and  at  the  same  time  mention- 
ing that  he  had  passed  his  thirtieth  birthday,  and 
alluding  to  the  postponement  of  his  plan  by  the 
war,  he  exclaimed,  to  explain  why  he  had  taken  up 
arms : 

"  How  can  I  train  boys  whose  devotion  I  claim, 
unless  I  have  proved  by  my  own  deeds  how  a  man 
should  show  devotion  to  the  general  welfare  ? " 

These  words  made  a  deep  impression  upon  the 
two  friends,  and  increased  Middendorf's  enthu- 
siastic reverence  for  the  older  comrade,  whose 
experiences  and  ideas  had  opened  a  new  world 
to  him. 

The  Peace  of  Paris,  and  the  enrolment  of  the 
Ltitzow  corps  in  the  line,  brought  the  trio  back  to 
Berlin  to  civil  life. 

There  also  each  frequently  sought  the  others, 
until,  in  the  spring  of  1817,  Froebel  resigned  the 
permanent  position  in  the  Bureau  of  Mineralogy 
in  order  to  establish  his  institute. 

Middendorf  had  been  bribed  by  the  saying  of 
his  admired  friend  that  he  "  had  found  the  unity 
of  life."  It  gave  the  young  philosopher  food  for 
thought,  and,  because  he  felt  that  he  had  vainly 
sought  this  unity  and  was  dissatisfied,  he  hoped  to 


196  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

secure  it  through  the  society  of  the  man  who  had 
become  everything  to  him.  His  wish  was  fulfilled, 
for  as  an  educator  he  grew  as  it  were  into  his  own 
motto,  "  Lucid,  genuine,  and  true  to  life." 

Middendorf  gave  up  little  when  he  followed 
Froebel. 

The  case  was  different  with  Langethal.  He 
had  entered  as  a  tutor  the  Bendemann  household 
at  Charlottenburg,  where  he  found  a  second  home. 
He  taught  with  brilliant  success  children  richly 
gifted  in  mind  and  heart,  whose  love  he  won.  It 
was  "  a  glorious  family  "  which  permitted  him  to 
share  its  rich  social  life,  and  in  whose  highly  gifted 
circle  he  could  be  sure  of  finding  warm  sympathy 
in  his  intellectual  interests.  Protected  from  all 
external  anxieties,  he  had  under  their  roof  ample 
leisure  for  industrious  labour  and  also  for  inter- 
course with  his  own  friends. 

In  July,  1817,  he  passed  the  last  examination 
with  the  greatest  distinction,  receiving  the  "very 
good,"  rarely  bestowed  ;  and  a  brilliant  career  lay 
before  him. 

Directly  after  this  success  three  pulpits  were 
offered  to  him,  but  he  accepted  neither,  because  he 
longed  for  rest  and  quiet  occupation. 

The  summons  from  Froebel  to  devote  himself 
to  his  infant  institute,  where  Langethal  had  placed 
his  younger  brother,  also  reached  him.  The  little 
school  moved  on  St.  John's  Day,  1817,  from  Gries- 


FOUNDERS  OF   THE   KEILHAU   INSTITUTE.  197 

heim  to  Keilhau,  where  the  widow  of  Pastor  Froe- 
bel  had  been  offered  a  larger  farm.  The  place 
which  she  and  her  children's  teacher  found  was 
wonderfully  adapted  to  Froebel's  purpose,  and 
seemed  to  promise  great  advantages  both  to  the 
pupils  and  to  the  institute.  There  was  much 
building  and  arranging  to  be  accomplished,  but 
means  to  do  so  were  obtained,  and  the  first  pupil 
described  very  amusingly  the  entrance  into  the 
new  home,  the  furnishing,  the  discovery  of  all  the 
beauties  and  advantages  which  we  found  as  an  old 
possession  in  Keilhau,  and  the  endeavour,  so  char- 
acteristic of  Middendorf,  to  adapt  even  the  less  at- 
tractive points  to  his  own  poetic  ideas. 

Only  the  hours  of  instruction  fared  badly,  and 
Froebel  felt  that  he  needed  a  man  of  fully  devel- 
oped strength  in  order  to  give  the  proper  founda- 
tion to  the  instruction  of  the  boys  who  were  en- 
trusted to  his  care.  He  knew  a  man  of  this  stamp 
in  the  student  F.  A.  Wolfs,  whose  talent  for  teach- 
ing had  been  admirably  proved  in  the  Bendemann 
family. 

"  Langethal,"  as  the  first  pupil  describes  him, 
"  was  at  that  time  a  very  handsome  man  of  five- 
and-twenty  years.  His  brow  was  grave,  but  his 
features  expressed  kindness  of  heart,  gentleness, 
and  benevolence.  The  dignity  of  his  whole  bear- 
ing was  enhanced  by  the  sonorous  tones  of  his 
voice — he  retained  them  until  old  age — and  his 


IC)8  THE   STORY  OF    MY   LIFE. 

whole  manner  revealed  manly  firmness.  Midden- 
dorf  was  more  pleasing  to  women,  Langethal  to 
men.  Middendorf  attracted  those  who  saw,  Lange- 
thal those  who  heard  him,  and  the  confidence  he 
inspired  was  even  more  lasting  than  that  aroused 
by  Middendorf. 

What  marvel  that  Froebel  made  every  effort  to 
win  this  rare  power  for  the  young  institute?  But 
Langethal  declined,  to  the  great  vexation  of  Mid- 
dendorf. Diesterweg  called  the  latter  "  a  St. 
John,"  but  our  dear,  blind  teacher  added,  "  And 
Froebel  was  his  Christus." 

The  enthusiastic  young  Westphalian,  who  had 
once  believed  he  saw  in  this  man  every  masculine 
virtue,  and  whose  life  appeared  emblematical,  pa- 
tiently accepted  everything,  and  considered  every 
one  a  "  renegade  "  who  had  ever  followed  Froebel 
and  did  not  bow  implicitly  to  his  will.  So  he  was 
angered  by  Langethal's  refusal.  The  latter  had 
been  offered,  with  brilliant  prospects  for  the  pres- 
ent and  still  fairer  ones  for  the  future,  a  position 
as  a  tutor  in  Silesia,  a  place  which^ecured  him  the 
rest  he  desired,  combined  with  occupation  suited  to 
his  tastes.  He  was  to  share  the  labour  of  teaching 
with  another  instructor,  who  was  to  take  charge 
of  the  exact  sciences,  with  which  he  was  less  famil- 
iar, and  he  was  also  permitted  to  teach  his  brother 
with  the  young  Counts  Stolberg. 

He   accepted,  but   before   going   to   Silesia  he 


FOUNDERS  OF   THE   KEILHAU    INSTITUTE. 


199 


wished  to  visit  his  Keilhau  friends  and  take  his 
brother  away  with  him.  He  did  so,  and  the  "  di- 
plomacy "  with  which  Froebel  succeeded  in  chang- 
ing the  decision  of  the  resolute  young  man  and 
gaining  him  over  to  his  own  interests,  is  really  re- 
markable. It  won  for  the  infant  institute  in  the 
person  of  Langethal — if  the  expression  is  allow- 
able— the  backbone. 

Froebel  had  sent  Middendorf  to  meet  his  friend, 
and  the  latter,  on  the  way,  told  him  of  the  happi- 
ness which  he  had  found  in  his  new  home  and  oc- 
cupation. Then  they  entered  Keilhau,  and  the 
splendid  landscape  which  surrounds  it  needs  no 
praise. 

Froebel  received  his  former  comrade  with  the 
utmost  cordiality,  and  the  sight  of  the  robust, 
healthy,  merry  boys  who  were  lying  on  the  floor 
that  evening,  building  forts  and  castles  with  the 
wooden  blocks  which  Froebel  had  had  made  for 
them  according  to  his  own  plan,  excited  the  keen- 
est interest.  He  had  come  to  take  his  brother 
away  ;  but  when  he  saw  him,  among  other  happy 
companions  of  his  own  age,  complete  the  finest 
structure  of  all — a  Gothic  cathedral — it  seemed  al- 
most wrong  to  tear  the  child  from  this  circle. 

He  gazed  sadly  at  his  brother  when  he  came  to 

bid  him  "good-night,"  and  then  remained  alone 

with  Froebel.     The  latter  was  less  talkative  than 

usual,  waiting  for  his  friend  to   tell   him   of  the 

14 


200  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

future  which  awaited  him  in  Silesia.  When  he 
heard  that  a  second  tutor  was  to  relieve  Langethal 
of  half  his  work,  he  exclaimed,  with  the  greatest 
anxiety : 

"You  do  not  know  him,  and  yet  intend  to  finish 
a  work  of  education  with  him  ?  What  great 
chances  you  are  hazarding!" 

The  next  morning  Froebel  asked  his  friend  what 
goal  in  life  he  had  set  before  him,  and  Langethal 
replied : 

"  Like  the  apostle,  I  would  fain  proclaim  the 
gospel  to  all  men  according  to  the  best  of  my 
powers,  in  order  to  bring  them  into  close  com- 
munion with  the  Redeemer." 

Froebel  answered,  thoughtfully : 

"  If  you  desire  that,  you  must,  like  the  apostles, 
know  men.  You  must  be  able  to  enter  into  the 
life  of  every  one — here  a  peasant,  there  a  me- 
chanic. If  you  can  not,  do  not  hope  for  success; 
your  influence  will  not  extend  far." 

How  wise  and  convincing  the  words  sounded  ! 

And  Froebel  touched  the  sensitive  spot  in  the 
young  minister,  who  was  thoroughly  imbued  with 
the  sacred  beauty  of  his  life-task,  yet  certainly 
knew  the  Gospels,  his  classic  authors,  and  apostolic 
fathers  much  better  than  he  did  the  world. 

He  thoughtfully  followed  Froebel,  who,  with 
Middendorf  and  the  boys,  led  him  up  the  Steiger, 
the  mountain  whose  summit  afforded  the  magnifi- 


FOUNDERS  OF   THE   KEILH  AU    INSTITUTE.  2OI 

cent  view  I  have  described.  It  was  the  hour  when 
the  setting  sun  pours  its  most  exquisite  light  over 
the  mountains  and  valleys.  The  heart  of  the 
young  clergyman,  tortured  by  anxious  doubts> 
swelled  at  the  sight  of  this  magnificence,  and 
Froebel,  seeing  what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Come,  comrade,  let  us  have  one  of  our  old 
war-songs." 

The  musical  "  black  Jager  "  of  yore  willingly 
assented ;  and  how  clearly  and  enthusiastically  the 
chorus  of  boyish  voices  chimed  in  ! 

When  it  died  away,  the  older  man  passed  his 
arm  around  his  friend's  shoulders,  and,  pointing  to 
the  beautiful  region  lying  before  them  in  the  sun- 
set glow,  exclaimed : 

"  Why  seek  so  far  away  what  is  close  at  hand  ? 
A  work  is  established  here  which  must  be  built  by 
the  hand  of  God !  Implicit  devotion  and  self-sac- 
rifice are  needed." 

While  speaking,  he  gazed  steadfastly  into  his 
friend's  tearful  eyes,  as  if  he  had  found  his  true  ob- 
ject in  life,  and  when  he  held  out  his  hand  Lange- 
thal  clasped  it — he  could  not  help  it. 

That  very  day  a  letter  to  the  Counts  Stolberg 
informed  them  that  they  must  seek  another  tutor 
for  their  sons,  and  Froebel  and  Keilhau  could  con- 
gratulate themselves  on  having  gained  their  Lan- 
gethal. 


202  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

The  management  of  the  school  was  hencefor- 
ward in  the  hands  of  a  man  of  character,  while  the 
extensive  knowledge  and  the  excellent  method  of 
a  well-trained  scholar  had  been  obtained  for  the 
educational  department.  The  new  institute  now 
prospered  rapidly.  The  renown  of  the  fresh, 
healthful  life  and  the  able  tuition  of  the  pupils 
spread  far  beyond  the  limits  of  Thuringia.  The 
material  difficulties  with  which  the  head-master  had 
had  to  struggle  after  the  erection  of  the  large  new 
buildings  were  also  removed  when  Froebel's  pros- 
perous brother  in  Osterode  decided  to  take  part  in 
the  work  and  move  to  Keilhau.  He  understood 
farming,  and,  by  purchasing  more  land  and  wood- 
lands, transformed  the  peasant  holding  into  a  con- 
siderable estate. 

When  Froebel's  restless  spirit  drew  him  to  Switz- 
erland to  undertake  new  educational  enterprises, 
and  some  one  was  needed  who  could  direct  the 
business  management,  Barop,  the  steadfast  man  of 
whom  I  have  already  spoken,  was  secured.  Deeply 
esteemed  and  sincerely  beloved,  he  managed  the 
institute  during  the  time  that  we  three  brothers 
were  pupils  there.  He  had  found  many  things 
within  to  arrange  on  a  more  practical  foundation, 
many  without  to  correct :  for  the  long  locks  of 
most  of  the  pupils;  the  circumstance  that  three 
Liitzen  Jagers,  one  of  whom  had  delivered  the  ora- 
tion at  a  students'  political  meeting,  had  estab- 


FOUNDERS  OF  THE   KEILHAU   INSTITUTE. 


203 


lished  the  school ;  that  Barop  had  been  persecuted 
as  a  demagogue  on  account  of  his  connection  with 
a  students'  political  society ;  and,  finally,  Froebel's 
relations  with  Switzerland  and  the  liberal  educa- 
tional methods  of  the  school,  had  roused  the 
suspicions  of  the  Berlin  demagogue-hunters,  and 
therefore  demagogic  tendencies,  from  which  in 
reality  it  had  always  held  aloof,  were  attributed  to 
the  institute. 

Yes,  we  were  free,  in  so  far  that  everything 
which  could  restrict  or  retard  our  physical  and 
mental  development  was  kept  away  from  us,  and 
our  teachers  might  call  themselves  so  because, 
with  virile  energy,  they  had  understood  how  to 
protect  the  institute  from  every  injurious  and 
narrowing  outside  influence.  The  smallest  and 
the  largest  pupil  was  free,  for  he  was  permitted 
to  be  wholly  and  entirely  his  natural  self,  so  long 
as  he  kept  within  the  limits  imposed  by  the  existing 
laws.  But  license  was  nowhere  more  sternly  pro- 
hibited than  at  Keilhau ;  and  the  deep  religious 
feeling  of  its  head-masters — Barop,  Langethal,  and 
Middendorf — ought  to  have  taught  the  suspicious 
spies  in  Berlin  that  the  command,  "  Render  unto 
Caesar  the  things  that  are  Caesar's,"  would  never  be 
violated  here. 

The  time  I  spent  in  Keilhau  was  during  the 
period  of  the  worst  reaction,  and  I  now  know  that 
our  teachers  would  have  sat  on  the  Left  in  the 


2O4  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

Prussian  Landtag;  yet  we  never  heard  a  disrespect- 
ful word  spoken  of  Frederick  William  IV,  and  we 
were  instructed  to  show  the  utmost  respect  to  the 
prince  of  the  little  country  of  Rudolstadt  to  which 
Keilhau  belonged.  Barop,  spite  of  his  liberal  tend- 
encies, was  highly  esteemed  by  this  petty  sover- 
eign, decorated  with  an  order,  and  raised  to  the 
rank  of  Councillor  of  Education.  From  a  hundred 
isolated  recollections  and  words  which  have  lin- 
gered in  my  memory  I  have  gathered  that  our 
teachers  were  liberals  in  a  very  moderate  way,  yet 
they  were  certainly  guilty  of  "demagogic  aspira- 
tions" in  so  far  as  that  they  desired  for  their  na- 
tive land  only  what  we,  thank  Heaven,  now  possess : 
its  unity,  and  a  popular  representation,  by  a  free 
election  of  all  its  states,  in  a  German  Parliament. 
What  enthusiasm  for  the  Emperor  William,  Bis- 
marck, and  Von  Moltke,  Langethal,  Middendorf, 
and  Barop  would  have  inspired  in  our  hearts  had 
they  been  permitted  to  witness  the  great  events  of 
1870  and  1871  ! 

Besides,  politics  were  kept  from  us,  and  this 
had  become  known  in  wider  circles  when  we  en- 
tered the  institute,  for  most  of  the  pupils  belonged 
to  loyal  families.  Many  were  sons  of  the  higher 
officials,  officers,  and  landed  proprietors  ;  and  as 
long  locks  had  long  since  become  the  exception, 
and  the  Keilhau  pupils  were  as  well  mannered  as 
possible,  many  noblemen,  among  them  chamber- 


FOUNDERS  OF   THE    KEILHAU    INSTITUTE. 


205 


lains  and  other  court  officials,  decided  to  send  their 
boys  to  the  institute. 

The  great  manufacturers  and  merchants  who 
placed  their  sons  in  the  institute  were  also  not 
men  favourable  to  revolution,  and  many  of  our  com- 
rades became  officers  in  the  German  army.  Others 
are  able  scholars,  clergymen,  and  members  of  Par- 
liament ;  others  again  government  officials,  who  fill 
high  positions;  and  others  still  are  at  the  head  of 
large  industrial  or  mercantile  enterprises.  I  have 
not  heard  of  a  single  individual  who  has  gone  to 
ruin,  and  of  very  many  who  have  accomplished 
things  really  worthy  of  note.  But  wherever  I  have 
met  an  old  pupil  of  Keilhau,  I  have  found  in  him 
the  same  love  for  the  institute,  have  seen  his  eyes 
sparkle  more  brightly  when  we  talked  of  Lange- 
thal,  Middendorf,  and  Barop.  Not  one  has  turned 
out  a  sneak  or  a  hypocrite. 

The  present  institution  is  said  to  be  an  admira- 
ble one;  but  the  "Realschule"  of  Keilhau,  which 
has  been  forced  to  abandon  its  former  humanistic 
foundation,  can  scarcely  train  to  so  great  a  variety 
of  callings  the  boys  now  entrusted  to  its  care. 


206  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

CHAPTER    XIV. 

IN    THE    FOREST    AND    ON    THE    MOOR. 

THE  little  country  of  Rudolstadt  in  which  Keil- 
hau  lies  had  had  its  revolution,  though  it  was  but 
a  small  and  bloodless  one.  True,  the  insurrection 
had  nothing  to  do  with  human  beings,  but  involved 
the  destruction  of  living  creatures.  Greater  lib- 
erty in  hunting  was  demanded. 

This  might  seem  a  trivial  matter,  yet  it  was  of 
the  utmost  importance  to  both  disputants.  The 
wide  forests  of  the  country  had  hitherto  been  the 
hunting-grounds  of  the  prince,  and  not  a  gun 
could  be  fired  there  without  his  permission.  To 
give  up  these  "happy  hunting-grounds"  was  a 
severe  demand  upon  the  eager  sportsman  who 
occupied  the  Rudolstadt  throne,  and  the  rustic 
population  would  gladly  have  spared  him  had  it 
been  possible. 

But  the  game  in  Rudolstadt  had  become  a  veri- 
table torment,  which  destroyed  the  husbandmen's 
hopes  of  harvests.  The  peasant,  to  save  his  fields 
from  the  stags  and  does  which  broke  into  them  in 
herds  at  sunset,  tried  to  keep  them  out  by  means 
of  clappers  and  bad  odours.  I  have  seen  and 
smelled  the  so-called  "  Frenchman's  oil  "  with 
which  the  posts  were  smeared,  that  its  really  dia- 


IN  THE  FOREST  AND  ON  THE  MOOR. 


207 


bolical  odour — I  don't  know  from  what  horrors  it 
was  compounded — might  preserve  the  crops.  The 
ornament  of  the  forests  had  become  the  object  of 
the  keenest  hate,  and  as  soon  as — shortly  before 
we  entered  Keilhau — hunting  was  freely  permitted, 
the  peasants  gave  full  vent  to  their  rage,  set  off  for 
the  woods  with  the  old  muskets  they  had  kept  hid- 
den in  the  garrets,  or  other  still  more  primitive 
weapons,  and  shot  or  struck  down  all  the  game  they 
encountered.  Roast  venison  was  cheap  for  weeks 
on  Rudolstadt  tables,  and  the  pupils  had  many  an 
unexpected  pleasure. 

The  hunting  exploits  of  the  older  scholars  were 
only  learned  by  us  younger  ones  as  secrets,  and 
did  not  reach  the  teachers'  ears  until  long  after. 

But  the  woods  furnished  other  pleasures  besides 
those  enjoyed  by  the  sportsman.  Every  ramble 
through  the  forest  enriched  our  knowledge  of 
plants  and  animals,  and  I  soon  knew  the  different 
varieties  of  stones  also  ;  yet  we  did  not  suspect  that 
this  knowledge  was  imparted  according  to  a  cer- 
tain system.  We  were  taught  as  it  were  by  stealth, 
and  how  many  pleasant,  delicious  things  attracted 
us  to  the  class-rooms  on  the  wooded  heights  ! 

Vegetation  was  very  abundant  in  the  richly 
watered  mountain  valley.  Our  favourite  spring 
was  the  Schaalbach  at  the  foot  of  the  Steiger,* 

*  We  pupils  bought  it  of  the  peasant  who  owned  it  and  gave 
it  to  Barop. 


208  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE. 

because  there  was  a  fowling-floor  connected  with 
it,  where  I  spent  many  a  pleasant  evening.  It 
could  be  used  only  after  breeding-time,  and  con- 
sisted of  a  hut  built  of  boughs  where  the  bird- 
catcher  lodged.  Flowing  water  rippled  over  the 
little  wooden  rods  on  which  the  feathered  denizens 
of  the  woods  alighted  to  quench  their  thirst  before 
going  to  sleep.  When  some  of  them — frequently 
six  at  a  time — had  settled  on  the  perches  in  the 
trough,  it  was  drawn  into  the  hut  by  a  rope,  a  net 
was  spread  over  the  water  and  there  was  nothing 
more  to  do  except  take  the  captives  out. 

The  name  of  the  director  of  this  amusement 
was  Merbod.  He  could  imitate  the  voices  of  all 
the  birds,  and  was  a  merry,  versatile  fellow,  who 
knew  how  to  do  a  thousand  things,  and  of  whom 
we  boys  were  very  fond. 

The  peasant  Bredernitz  often  took  us  to  his 
crow-hut,  which  was  a  hole  in  the  ground  covered 
with  boughs  and  pieces  of  turf,  where  the  hunters 
lay  concealed.  The  owl,  which  lured  the  crows 
and  other  birds  of  prey,  was  fastened  on  a  perch, 
and  when  they  flew  up,  often  in  large  flocks,  to 
tease  the  old  cross-patch  which  sat  blinking  an- 
grily, they  were  shot  down  from  loop-holes  which 
had  been  left  in  the  hut.  The  hawks  which  prey 
upon  doves  and  hares,  the  crows  and  magpies,  can 
thus  easily  be  decimated. 

We  had  learned  to  use  our  guns  in  the  play- 


IN  THE  FOREST  AND  ON  THE  MOOR. 


209 


ground.  The  utmost  caution  was  enforced,  and  al- 
though, as  I  have  already  remarked,  we  handled 
our  own  guns  when  we  were  only  lads  of  twelve 
years  old,  I  can  not  recall  a  single  accident  which 
occurred. 

Once,  during  the  summer,  there  was  a  Schiitzen- 
fest,  in  which  a  large  wooden  eagle  was  shot  from 
the  pole.  Whoever  brought  down  the  last  splinter 
became  king.  This  honour  once  fell  to  my  share, 
and  I  was  permitted  to  choose  a  queen.  I  crowned 
Marie  Breimann,  a  pretty,  slender  young  girl  from 
Brunswick,  whose  Greek  profile  and  thick  silken 
hair  had  captivated  my  fancy.  She  and  Adelheid 
Barop,  the  head-master's  daughter,  were  taught  in 
our  classes,  but  Marie  attracted  me  more  strongly 
than  the  diligent  Keilhau  lassies  with  their  beau- 
tiful black  eyes  and  the  other  two  blooming  and 
graceful  Westphalian  girls  who  were  also  school- 
mates. But  the  girls  occupied  a  very  small  place 
in  our  lives.  They  could  neither  wrestle,  shoot, 
nor  climb,  so  we  gave  them  little  thought,  and  any- 
thing like  actual  flirtation  was  unknown — we  had 
so  many  better  things  in  our  heads.  Wrestling 
and  other  sports  threw  everything  else  into  the 
shade.  Pretty  Marie,  however,  probably  suspected 
which  of  my  school-mates  I  liked  best,  and  up  to 
the  time  of  my  leaving  the  institute  I  allowed  no 
other  goddess  to  rival  her.  But  there  were  plenty 
of  amusements  at  Keilhau  besides  bird-shooting. 


2io  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

I  will  mention  the  principal  ones  which  came  dur- 
ing the  year,  for  to  describe  them  in  regular  order 
would  be  impossible. 

Of  the  longer  walks  which  we  took  in  the  spring 
and  summer  the  most  beautiful  was  the  one  lead- 
ing through  Blankenburg  to  the  entrance  of  the 
Schwarzathal,  and  thence  through  the  lofty,  majes- 
tically formed  group  of  cliffs  at  whose  foot  the 
clear,  swift  Schwarza  flows,  dashing  and  foaming, 
to  Schwarzburg. 

How  clearly  our  songs  echoed  from  the  granite 
walls  of  the  river  valley,  and  how  lively  it  always 
was  at  "  The  Stag,"  whose  landlord  possessed  a 
certain  power  of  attraction  to  us  boys  in  his  own 
person ;  for,  as  the  stoutest  man  in  Thuringia,  he 
was  a  feast  for  the  eyes !  His  jollity  equalled  his 
corpulence,  and  how  merrily  he  used  to  jest  with 
us  lads ! 

Of  the  shorter  expeditions  I  will  mention  only 
the  two  we  took  most  frequently,  which  led  us  in 
less  than  an  hour  to  Blankenburg  or  Greifenstein, 
a  large  ruin,  many  parts  of  which  were  in  tolerable 
preservation.  It  had  been  the  home  of  Count 
Giinther  von  Schwarzburg,  who  paid  with  his  life 
for  the  honour  of  wearing  the  German  imperial 
crown  a  few  short  months. 

We  also  enjoyed  being  sent  to  the  little  town 
of  Blankenburg  on  errands,  for  it  was  the  home  of 
our  drawing-master,  the  artist  linger,  one  of  those 


IN   THE   FOREST   AND  ON   THE   MOOR.    211 

original  characters  whom  we  rarely  meet  now. 
When  we  knew  him,  the  handsome,  broad-shoul- 
dered man,  with  his  thick  red  beard,  looked  as 
one  might  imagine  Odin.  Summer  and  winter  his 
dress  was  a  grey  woollen  jacket,  into  which  a  short 
pipe  was  thrust,  and  around  his  hips  a  broad 
leather  belt,  from  which  hung  a  bag  containing  his 
drawing  materials.  He  cared  nothing  for  public 
opinion,  and,  as  an  independent  bachelor,  desired 
nothing  except  "  to  be  let  alone,"  for  he  professed 
the  utmost  contempt  for  the  corrupt  brood  yclept 
"  mankind."  He  never  came  to  our  entertainments, 
probably  because  he  would  be  obliged  to  wear 
something  in  place  of  his  woollen  jacket,  and  be- 
cause he  avoided  women,  whom  he  called  "the 
roots  of  all  evil."  I  still  remember  how  once,  after 
emptying  the  vials  of  his  wrath  upon  mankind,  he 
said,  in  reply  to  the  question  whether  he  included 
Barop  among  the  iniquitous  brood,  "Why,  of 
course  not ;  he  doesn't  belong  to  it !  " 

There  was  no  lack  of  opportunity  to  visit  him, 
for  a  great  many  persons  employed  to  work  for  the 
school  lived  in  Blankenburg,  and  we  were  known 
to  be  carefully  watched  there. 

I  remember  two  memorable  expeditions  to  the 
little  town.  Once  my  brother  Ludo  burned  his 
arm  terribly  during  a  puppet-show  by  the  explosion 
of  some  powder  provided  for  the  toy  cannon. 

The  poor  fellow,  suffered   so   severely  that   I 


212  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

could  not  restrain  my  tears,  and  though  it  was 
dark,  and  snow  lay  on  the  mountains,  off  I  went  to 
Blankenburg  to  get  the  old  surgeon,  calling  to 
some  of  my  school-mates  at  the  door  to  tell  them 
of  my  destination.  It  was  no  easy  matter  to  wade 
through  the  snow;  but,  fortunately,  the  stars  gave 
me  sufficient  light  to  keep  in  the  right  path  as  I 
dashed  down  the  mountain  to  Blankenburg.  How 
often  I  plunged  into  ditches  filled  with  snow  and 
slid  down  short  descents  I  don't  know ;  but  as  I 
write  these  lines  I  can  vividly  remember  the  relief 
with  which  I  at  last  trod  the  pavement  of  the  little 
town.  Old  Wetzel  was  at  home,  and  a  carriage 
soon  conveyed  us  over  the  only  road  to  the  insti- 
tute. I  was  not  punished.  Barop  only  laid  his 
hand  on  my  head,  and  said,  "  I  am  glad  you  are 
back  again,  Bear." 

Another  trip  to  Blankenburg  entailed  results 
far  more  serious — nay,  almost  cost  me  my  life. 

I  was  then  fifteen,  and  one  Sunday  afternoon  I 
went  with  Barop's  permission  to  visit  the  Ham- 
burgers, but  on  condition  that  I  should  return  by 
nine  o'clock  at  latest. 

Time,  however,  slipped  by  in  pleasant  conver- 
sation until  a  later  hour,  and  as  thunder-clouds 
were  rising  my  host  tried  to  keep  me  overnight. 
But  I  thought  this  would  not  be  allowable,  and, 
armed  with  an  umbrella,  I  set  off  along  the  road, 
with  which  I  was  perfectly  familiar. 


IN  THE  FOREST  AND  ON  THE  MOOR. 


213 


But  the  storm  soon  burst,  and  it  grew  so  dark 
that,  except  when  the  lightning  flashed,  I  could 
not  see  my  hand  before  my  face.  Yet  on  I  went, 
though  wondering  that  the  path  along  which  I 
groped  my  way  led  upward,  until  the  lightning 
showed  me  that,  by  mistake,  I  had  taken  the  road 
to  Greifenstein.  I  turned  back,  and  while  feeling 
my  way  through  the  gloom  the  earth  seemed  to 
vanish  under  my  feet,  and  I  plunged  headlong  into 
a  viewless  gulf — not  through  empty  space,  how- 
ever, but  a  wet,  tangled  mass  which  beat  against 
my  face,  until  at  last  there  was  a  jerk  which  shook 
me  from  head  to  foot. 

I  no  longer  fell,  but  I  heard  above  me  the  sound 
of  something  tearing,  and  the  thought  darted 
through  my  mind  that  I  was  hanging  by  my 
trousers.  Groping  around,  I  found  vine-leaves, 
branches,  and  lattice-work,  to  which  I  clung,  and 
tearing  away  with  my  foot  the  cloth  which  had 
caught  on  the  end  of  a  lath,  I  again  brought  my 
head  where  it  should  be,  and  discovered  that  I  was 
hanging  on  a  vine-clad  wall.  A  flash  of  lightning 
showed  me  the  ground  not  very  far  below  and,  by 
the  help  of  the  espalier  and  the  vines  I  at  last 
stood  in  a  garden. 

Almost  by  a  miracle  I  escaped  with  a  few 
scratches ;  but  when  I  afterwards  went  to  look  at 
the  scene  of  this  disaster  cold  chills  ran  down  my 
back,  for  half  the  distance  whence  I  plunged  into 


214  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

the  garden  would  have  been  enough  to  break  my 
neck. 

Our  games  were  similar  to  those  which  lads  of 
the  same  age  play  now,  but  there  were  some  addi- 
tional ones  that  could  only  take  place  in  a  wooded 
mountain  valley  like  Keilhau ;  such,  for  instance, 
were  our  Indian  games,  which  engrossed  us  at  the 
time  when  we  were  pleased  with  Cooper's  "  Leather- 
Stocking,"  but  I  need  not  describe  them. 

When  I  was  one  of  the  older  pupils  a  party  of 
us  surprised  some  "  Panzen  " — as  we  called  the 
younger  ones — one  hot  afternoon  engaged  in  a 
very  singular  game  of  their  own  invention.  They 
had  undressed  to  the  skin  in  the  midst  of  the  thick- 
est woods  and  were  performing  Paradise  and  the 
Fall  of  Man,  as  they  had  probably  just  been  taught 
in  their  religious  lesson.  For  the  expulsion  of 
Adam  and  our  universal  mother  Eve,  the  angel — 
in  this  case  there  were  two  of  them — used,  instead 
of  the  flaming  sword,  stout  hazel  rods,  with  which 
they  performed  their  part  of  warders  so  over-zeal- 
ously  that  a  quarrel  followed,  which  we  older  ones 
stopped. 

Thus  many  bands  of  pupils  invented  games  of 
their  own,  but,  thank  Heaven,  rarely  devised  such 
absurdities.  Our  later  Homeric  battles  any  teach- 
er would  have  witnessed  with  pleasure.  Froebel 
would  have  greeted  them  as  signs  of  creative  im- 
agination and  "  individual  life  "  in  the  boys. 


SUMMER   PLEASURES  AND   RAMBLES.      215 
CHAPTER   XV. 

SUMMER    PLEASURES    AND    RAMBLES. 

WHOLLY  unlike  these,  genuinely  and  solely  a 
product  of  Keilhau,  was  the  great  battle-game 
which  we  called  Bergwacht,  one  of  my  brightest 
memories  of  those  years. 

Long  preparations  were  needed,  and  these,  too, 
were  delightful. 

On  the  wooded  plain  at  the  summit  of  the 
Kolm,  a  mountain  which  belonged  mainly  to  the 
institute,  war  was  waged  during  the  summer  every 
Saturday  evening  until  far  into  the  night,  when- 
ever the  weather  was  fine,  which  does  not  happen 
too  often  in  Thuringia. 

The  whole  body  of  pupils  was  divided  into 
three,  afterwards  into  four  sections,  each  of  which 
had  its  own  citadel.  After  two  had  declared  war 
against  two  others,  the  battle  raged  until  one  party 
captured  the  strongholds  of  the  other.  This  was 
done  as  soon  as  a  combatant  had  set  foot  on  the 
hearth  of  a  hostile  fortress. 

The  battle  itself  was  fought  with  stakes  blunted 
at  the  tops.  Every  one  touched  by  the  weapon  of 
an  enemy  must  declare  himself  a  prisoner.  To 
admit  this,  whenever  it  happened,  was  a  point  of 
honour. 

15 


2l6  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

In  order  to  keep  all  the  combatants  in  action,  a 
fourth  division  was  added  soon  after  our  arrival, 
and  of  course  it  was  necessary  to  build  a  strong- 
hold like  the  others.  This  consisted  of  a  hut  with 
a  stone  roof,  in  which  fifteen  or  twenty  boys  could 
easily  find  room  and  rest,  a  strong  wall  which  pro- 
tected us  up  to  our  foreheads,  and  surrounded  the 
front  of  the  citadel  in  a  semicircle,  as  well  as  a 
large  altar-like  hearth  which  rose  in  the  midst  of 
the  semicircular  space  surrounded  by  the  wall. 

We  built  this  fortress  ourselves,  except  that  our 
teacher  of  handicrafts,  the  sapper  Sabum,  some- 
times gave  us  a  hint.  The  first  thing  was  to  mark 
out  the  plan,  then  with  the  aid  of  levers  pry  the 
rocks  out  of  the  fields,  and  by  means  of  a  two- 
wheeled  cart  convey  them  to  the  site  chosen,  fit 
them  neatly  together,  stuff  the  interstices  with 
moss,  and  finally  put  on  a  roof  made  of  pine 
logs  which  we  felled  ourselves,  earth,  moss,  and 
branches. 

How  quickly  we  learned  to  use  the  plummet, 
take  levels,  hew  the  stone,  wield  the  axes!  And 
what  a  delight  it  was  when  the  work  was  finished 
and  we  saw  our  own  building!  Perhaps  we  might 
not  have  accomplished  it  without  the  sapper,  but 
every  boy  believed  that  if  he  were  cast,  like  Robin- 
son Crusoe,  on  a  desert  island,  he  could  build  a  hut 
of  his  own. 

As  soon  as  this  citadel  was  completed,  prepara- 


SUMMER   PLEASURES  AND   RAMBLES. 

tions  for  the  impending  battle  were  made.  The 
walls  and  encircling  walls  of  all  were  prepared, 
and  we  were  drilled  in  the  use  of  the  poles.  This, 
too,  afforded  us  the  utmost  pleasure.  Touching 
the  head  of  an  enemy  was  strictly  prohibited ;  yet 
many  a  slight  wound  was  given  while  fighting  in 
the  gloom  of  the  woods. 

Each  of  the  four  Bergwachts  had  its  leader. 
The  captain  of  the  first  was  director  of  the  whole 
game,  and  instead  of  a  lance  wore  a  rapier.  I  con- 
sidered it  a  great  honour  when  this  dignity  was 
conferred  on  me.  One  of  its  consequences  was 
that  my  portrait  was  sketched  by  "  Old  Unger  "  in 
the  so-called  "  Bergwacht  Book,"  which  contained 
the  likenesses  of  all  my  predecessors. 

During  the  summer  months  all  eyes,  even  as 
early  as  Thursday,  were  watching  the  weather. 
When  Saturday  evening  proved  pleasant  and  Ba- 
rop  had  given  his  consent,  there  was  great  rejoic- 
ing in  the  institute,  and  the  morning  hours  must 
have  yielded  the  teachers  little  satisfaction.  Di- 
rectly after  dinner  everybody  seized  his  pole  and 
the  other  "  Bergwacht "  equipments.  The  alliances 
were  formed  under  the  captain's  guidance.  We 
will  say  that  the  contest  was  to  begin  with  the  first 
and  third  Bergwacht  pitted  against  the  second  and 
fourth,  and  be  followed  by  another,  with  the  first 
and  second  against  the  third  and  fourth. 

We  assembled  in  the  court-yard  just  before  sun- 


2i8  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

set.  Barop  made  a  little  speech,  exhorting  us  to 
fight  steadily,  and  especially  to  observe  all  the 
rules  and  yield  ourselves  captives  as  soon  as  an 
enemy's  pole  touched  us.  He  never  neglected  on 
these  occasions  to  admonish  us  that,  should  our 
native  land  ever  need  the  armed  aid  of  her  sons, 
we  should  march  to  battle  as  joyously  as  we  now 
did  to  the  Bergwacht,  which  was  to  train  us  to 
skill  in  her  defence. 

Then  the  procession  set  off  in  good  order,  four 
or  six  pupils  harnessing  themselves  voluntarily  to 
the  cart  in  which  the  kegs  of  beer  were  dragged 
up  the  Kolm.  Off  we  went,  singing  merrily,  and 
at  the  top  the  women  were  waiting  for  us  with  a 
lunch.  Then  the  warriors  scattered,  the  fire  was 
lighted  on  every  hearth,  the  plan  of  battle  was  dis- 
cussed, some  were  sent  out  to  reconnoitre,  others 
kept  to  defend  the  citadel. 

At  last  the  conflict  began.  Could  I  ever  for- 
get the  scenes  in  the  forest !  No  Indian  tribe  on 
the  war-path  ever  strained  every  sense  more  keenly 
to  watch,  surround,  and  surprise  the  foe.  And  the 
hand-to-hand  fray  !  What  delight  it  was  to  burst 
from  the  shelter  of  the  thicket  and  touch  with  our 
poles  two,  three,  or  four  of  the  surprised  enemies 
ere  they  thought  of  defence !  And  what  self-denial 
it  required  when — spite  of  the  most  skilful  parry 
— we  felt  the  touch  of  the  pole,  to  confess  it,  and 
be  led  off  as  a  prisoner ! 


SUMMER   PLEASURES   AND   RAMBLES. 


219 


Voices  and  shouts  echoed  through  the  woods, 
and  the  glare  of  five  fires  pierced  the  darkness — 
five — for  flames  were  also  blazing  where  the  women 
were  cooking  the  supper.  But  the  light  was  bright- 
est, the  shouts  of  the  combatants  were  loudest,  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  forts.  The  effort  of  the  be- 
siegers was  to  spy  out  unguarded  places,  and  oc- 
cupy the  attention  of  the  garrison  so  that  a  com- 
rade might  leap  over  the  wall  and  set  his  foot  on 
the  hearth.  The  object  of  the  garrison  was  to 
prevent  this. 

What  was  that  ?  An  exulting  cry  rang  through 
the  night  air.  A  warrior  had  succeeded  in  pene- 
trating the  hostile  citadel  untouched  and  setting 
his  foot  on  the  hearth  ! 

Two  or  three  times  we  enjoyed  the  delight  of 
battle  ;  and  when  towards  midnight  it  closed,  we 
threw  ourselves — glowing  from  the  strife  and 
blackened  by  the  smoke  of  the  hearth-fires — down 
on  the  greensward  around  the  women's  fire,  where 
boiled  eggs  and  other  good  things  were  served, 
and  meanwhile  the  mugs  of  foaming  beer  were 
passed  around  the  circle.  One  patriotic  song  after 
another  was  sung,  and  at  last  each  Bergwacht  with- 
drew to  its  citadel  and  lay  down  on  the  moss  to 
sleep  under  the  sheltering  roof.  Two  sentinels 
marched  up  and  down,  relieved  every  half  hour 
until  the  early  dawn  of  the  summer  Sunday  bright- 
ened the  eastern  sky. 


220  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

Then  "  Huup  !  " — the  Keilhau  shout  which  sum- 
moned us  back  to  the  institute — rang  out,  and  a 
hymn,  the  march  back,  a  bath  in  the  pond,  and 
finally  the  most  delicious  rest,  if  good  luck  per- 
mitted, on  the  heaps  of  hay  which  had  not  been 
gathered  in.  On  the  Sunday  following  the  Berg- 
wacht  we  were  not  required  to  attend  church, 
where  we  should  merely  have  gone  to  sleep.  Barop, 
though  usually  very  strict  in  the  observance  of  re- 
ligious duties,  never  demanded  anything  for  the 
sake  of  mere  appearances. 

And  the  bed  of  my  own  planning  !  It  consisted 
of  wood  and  stones,  and  was  covered  with  a  thick 
layer  of  moss,  raised  at  the  head  in  a  slanting  direc- 
tion. It  looked  like  other  beds,  but  the  place 
where  it  stood  requires  some  description,  for  it 
was  a  Keilhau  specialty,  a  favour  bestowed  by  our 
teachers  on  the  pupils. 

Midway  up  the  slope  of  the  Kolm  where  our 
citadels  stood,  on  the  side  facing  the  institute,  each 
boy  had  a  piece  of  ground  where  he  might  build, 
dig,  or  plant,  as  he  chose.  They  descended  from  one 
to  another:  Ludo's  and  mine  had  come  down  from 
Martin  and  another  pupil  who  left  the  school  at 
the  same  time.  But  I  was  not  satisfied  with  what 
my  predecessors  had  created.  I  spared  the  beau- 
tiful vine  which  twined  around  a  fir-tree,  but  in  the 
place  of  a  flower-bed  and  a  bench  which  I  found 
there  Ludo  and  I  built  a  hearth,  and  for  myself  the 


SUMMER   PLEASURES  AND    RAMBLES.      22I 

bed  already  mentioned,  which  my  brother  of  course 
was  permitted  to  occupy  with  me. 

How  many  hours  I  have  spent  on  its  soft  cush- 
ions, reading  or  dreaming  or  imagining  things  !  If 
I  could  only  remember  them  as  they  hovered  be- 
fore me,  what  epics  and  tales  I  could  write ! 

No  doubt  we  ought  to  be  grateful  to  God  for 
this  as  well  as  for  so  many  other  blessings;  but 
why  are  we  permitted  to  be  young  only  once  in 
our  lives,  only  once  to  be  borne  aloft  on  the  wings 
of  a  tireless  power  of  imagination,  so  easily  satis- 
fied with  ourselves,  so  full  of  love,  faith,  and  hope, 
so  open  to  every  joy  and  so  blind  to  every  care  and 
doubt,  and  everything  which  threatens  to  cloud 
and  extinguish  the  sunlight  in  the  soul  ? 

Dear  bed  in  my  plot  of  ground  at  Keilhau,  you 
ought,  in  accordance  with  a  remark  of  Barop,  to 
cause  me  serious  self-examination,  for  he  said, 
probably  with  no  thought  of  my  mossy  couch, 
"  From  the  way  in  which  the  pupils  use  their  plots 
of  ground  and  the  things  they  place  in  them,  I  can 
form  a  very  correct  opinion  of  their  dispositions 
and  tastes."  But  you,  beloved  couch,  should  have 
the  best  place  in  my  garden  if  you  could  restore 
me  but  for  one  half  hour  the  dreams  which  visited 
me  on  your  grey-green  pillows,  when  I  was  a  lad 
of  fourteen  or  fifteen. 

I  have  passed  over  the  Rudolstadt  Schiitzenfest, 
its  music,  its  merry-go-round,  and  the  capital  sau- 


222  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

sages  cooked  in  the  open  air,  and  have  intention- 
ally omitted  many  other  delightful  things.  I  can- 
not help  wondering  now  where  we  found  time  for 
all  these  summer  pleasures. 

True,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  days  at  Whit- 
suntide, we  had  no  vacation  from  Easter  until  the 
first  of  September.  But  even  in  August  one 
thought,  one  joyous  anticipation,  filled  every  heart. 

The  annual  autumn  excursion  was  coming! 

After  we  were  divided  into  travelling  parties 
and  had  ascertained  which  teacher  was  to  accom- 
pany us — a  matter  that  seemed  very  important — we 
diligently  practised  the  most  beautiful  songs;  and 
on  many  an  evening  Barop  or  Middendorf  told  us 
of  the  places  through  which  we  were  to  pass,  their 
history,  and  the  legends  which  were  associated 
with  them.  They  were  aided  in  this  by  one  of 
the  sub-teachers,  Bagge,  a  poetically  gifted  young 
clergyman,  who  possessed  great  personal  beauty 
and  a  heart  capable  of  entering  into  the  intellect- 
ual life  of  the  boys  who  were  entrusted  to  his  care. 

He  instructed  us  in  the  German  language  and 
literature.  Possibly  because  he  thought  that  he 
discovered  in  me  a  talent  for  poetic  expression, 
he  showed  me  unusual  favor,  even  read  his  own 
verses  aloud  to  me,  and  set  me  special  tasks  in 
verse-writing,  which  he  criticised  with  me  when  I 
had  finished.  The  first  long  poem  I  wrote  of  my 
own  impulse  was  a  description  of  the  wonderful 


SUMMER   PLEASURES  AND   RAMBLES.     223 

forms  assumed  by  the  stalactite  formations  in  the 
Sophie  Cave  in  Switzerland,  which  we  had  visited. 
Unfortunately,  the  book  containing  it  is  lost,  but  I 
remember  the  following  lines,  referring  to  the  in- 
dustrious sprites  which  I  imagined  as  the  sculptors 
of  the  wondrous  shapes  : 

"Priestly  robes  and  a  high  altar  the  sprites  created  here, 
And  in  the  rock-hewn  cauldron  poured  the  holy  water  clear, 
Within  whose  depths  reflected,  by  the  torches'  flickering  rays, 
Beneath  the  surface  glimmering  my  own  face  met  my  gaze  ; 
And  when  I  thus  beheld  it,  so  small  it  seemed  to  me, 
That  yonder  stone-carved  giant  looked  on  with  mocking  glee. 
Ay,  laugh,  if  that's  your  pleasure,  Goliath  huge  and  old, 
/  soon  shall  fare  forth  singing, you  still  your  place  must  hold." 

Another  sub-teacher  was  also  a  favourite  trav- 
elling companion.  His  name  was  Schaffner,  and  he, 
too,  with  his  thick,  black  beard,  was  a  handsome 
man.  To  those  pupils  who,  like  my  brother  Ludo, 
were  pursuing  the  study  of  the  sciences,  he,  the 
mathematician  of  the  institute,  must  have  been  an 
unusually  clear  and  competent  teacher.  I  was 
under  his  charge  only  a  short  time,  and  his  branch 
of  knowledge  was  unfortunately  my  weak  point. 
Shortly  before  my  departure  he  married  a  younger 
sister  of  Barop's  wife,  and  established  an  educa- 
tional institution  very  similar  to  Keilhau  at  Gum- 
perda,  at  Schwarza  in  Thuringia. 

Herr  Vodoz,  our  French  teacher,  a  cheery,  vig- 
orous Swiss,  with  a  perfect  forest  of  curls  on  his 


224  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

head,  was  also  one  of  the  most  popular  guides ;  and 
so  was  Dr.  Budstedt,  who  gave  instruction  in  the 
classics.  He  was  not  a  handsome  man,  but  he  de- 
served the  name  of  "  anima  Candida."  He  used  to 
storm  at  the  slightest  occasion,  but  he  was  quickly 
appeased  again.  As  a  teacher  I  think  he  did  his 
full  duty,  but  I  no  longer  remember  anything 
about  his  methods. 

The  travelling  party  which  Barop  accompanied 
were  very  proud  of  the  honour.  Middendorf's  age 
permitted  him  to  go  only  with  the  youngest  pupils, 
who  made  the  shortest  trips. 

These  excursions  led  the  little  boys  into  the 
Thuringian  Forest,  the  Hartz  Mountains,  Saxony 
and  Bohemia,  Nuremberg  and  Wiirzburg,  and  the 
older  ones  by  way  of  Baireuth  and  Regensburg  to 
Ulm.  The  large  boys  in  the  first  travelling  party, 
which  was  usually  headed  by  Barop  himself,  ex- 
tended their  journey  as  far  as  Switzerland. 

I  visited  in  after-years  nearly  all  the  places  to 
which  we  went  at  that  time,  and  some,  with  which 
important  events  in  my  life  were  associated,  I 
shall  mention  later.  It  would  not  be  easy  to  re- 
produce from  memory  the  first  impressions  received 
without  mingling  with  them  more  recent  ones. 

Thus,  I  well  remember  how  Nuremberg  affected 
me  and  how  much  it  pleased  me.  I  express  this 
in  my  description  of  the  journey  ;  but  in  the  author 
of  Gred,  who  often  sought  this  delightful  city,  and 


SUMMER   PLEASURES   AND   RAMBLES. 


225 


made  himself  familiar  with  life  there  in  the  days  of 
its  mediaeval  prosperity,  these  childish  impressions 
became  something  wholly  new.  And  yet  they  are 
inseparable  from  the  conception  and  contents  of 
the  Nuremberg  novel. 

My  mother  kept  the  old  books  containing  the 
accounts  of  these  excursions,  which  occupied  from 
two  to  three  weeks,  and  they  possessed  a  certain 
interest  for  me,  principally  because  they  proved 
how  skilfully  our  teachers  understood  how  to  car- 
ry out  Froebel's  principles  on  these  occasions. 
Our  records  of  travel  also  explain  in  detail  what 
this  educator  meant  by  the  words  "unity  with 
life  "  ;  for  our  attention  was  directed  not  only  to 
beautiful  views  or  magnificent  works  of  art  and 
architecture,  but  to  noteworthy  public  institutions 
or  great  manufactories.  Our  teachers  took  the 
utmost  care  that  we  should  understand  what  we 
saw. 

The  cultivation  of  the  fields,  the  building  of 
the  peasants'  huts,  the  national  costumes,  were  all 
brought  under  our  notice,  thus  making  us  familiar 
with  life  outside  of  the  school,  and  opening  our 
eyes  to  things  concerning  which  the  pupil  of  an 
ordinary  model  grammar-school  rarely  inquires, 
yet  which  are  of  great  importance  to  the  world  to 
which  we  belong. 

Our  material  life  was  sensibly  arranged. 

During  the  rest  at  noon  a  cold  lunch  was  served, 


226  THE    STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

and  an  abundant  hot  meal  was  not  enjoyed  until 
evening. 

In  the  large  cities  we  dined  at  good  hotels  at 
the  table  d'htite,  and — as  in  Dresden,  Prague,  and 
Coburg — were  taken  to  the  theatre. 

But  we  often  spent  the  night  in  the  villages, 
and  then  chairs  were  turned  upside  down,  loose 
straw  was  spread  on  the  backs  and  over  the  floor, 
and,  wrapped  in  the  shawl  which  almost  every  boy 
carried  buckled  to  his  knapsack,  we  slept,  only  half 
undressed,  as  comfortably  as  in  the  softest  bed. 

While  walking  we  usually  sung  songs,  among 
them  very  nonsensical  ones,  if  only  we  could  keep 
step  well  to  their  time.  Often  one  of  the  teachers 
told  us  a  story.  Schaffner  and  Bagge  could  do 
this  best,  but  we  often  met  other  pedestrians  with 
whom  we  entered  into  conversation.  How  delight- 
ful is  the  memory  of  these  tramps  !  Progress  on 
foot  is  slow,  but  not  only  do  we  see  ten  times 
better  than  from  a  carriage  or  the  window  of  a 
car,  but  we  hear  and  learn  something  while  talking 
with  the  mechanics,  citizens,  and  peasants  who  are 
going  the  same  way,  or  the  landlords,  bar-maids, 
and  table  companions  we  meet  in  the  taverns, 
whose  guests  live  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
country  instead  of  the  international  pattern  of 
our  great  hotels. 

As  a  young  married  man,  I  always  anticipated 
as  the  greatest  future  happiness  taking  pedestrian 


AUTUMN,  WINTER,  EASTER.     DEPARTURE.    227 

tours  with  my  sons  like  the  Keilhau  ones  ;  but  Fate 
ordained  otherwise. 

On  our  return  to  the  institute  we  were  received 
with  great  rejoicing;  and  how  much  the  different 
parties,  now  united,  had  to  tell  one  another ! 

Study  recommenced  on  the  first  of  October,  and 
during  the  leisure  days  before  that  time  the  vil- 
lage church  festival  was  celebrated  under  the  vil- 
lage linden,  with  plenty  of  cakes,  and  a  dance  of 
the  peasants,  in  which  we  older  ones  took  part. 

But  we  were  obliged  to  devote  several  hours  of 
every  day  to  describing  our  journey  for  our  rela- 
tives at  home.  Each  one  filled  a  large  book,  which 
was  to  be  neatly  written.  The  exercise  afforded 
better  practice  in  describing  personal  experiences 
than  a  dozen  essays  which  had  been  previously 
read  with  the  teacher. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

AUTUMN,    WINTER,    EASTER,    AND    DEPARTURE. 

AUTUMN  had  come,  and  this  season  of  the  year, 
which  afterwards  was  to  be  the  most  fraught  with 
suffering,  at  that  time  seemed  perhaps  the  pleas- 
antest ;  for  none  afforded  a  better  opportunity  for 
wrestling  and  playing.  It  brought  delicious  fruit, 
and  never  was  the  fire  lighted"  more  frequently  on 


228  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

the  hearth  in  the  plots  of  ground  assigned  to  the 
pupils — baking  and  boiling  were  pleasant  during 
the  cool  afternoons. 

No  month  seemed  to  us  so  cheery  as  October. 

During  its  course  the  apples  and  pears  were 
gathered,  and  an  old  privilege  allowed  the  pupils 
"  to  glean  " — that  is,  to  claim  the  fruit  left  on  the 
trees.  This  tested  the  keenness  of  o\ir  young  eyes, 
but  it  sometimes  happened  that  we  confounded 
trees  still  untouched  with  those  which  had  been 
harvested.  "  Nitimur  in  vetitum  semper  cupi- 
musque  negata,"  *  is  an  excellent  saying  of  Ovid, 
whose  truth,  when  he  tested  it  in  person,  was  the 
cause  of  his  exile.  It  sometimes  brought  us  into 
conflict  with  the  owners  of  the  trees,  and  it  was 
only  natural  that  "  Froebel's  youngsters  "  often 
excited  the  peasants'  ire. 

Gellert,  it  is  true,  has  sung  : 

"  Enjoy  what  the  Lord  has  granted, 
Grieve  not  for  aught  withheld  " — 

but  the  popular  saying  is,  "  Forbidden  fruit  tastes 
sweetest,"  and  the  proverb  was  right  in  regard  to 
us  Keilhau  boys. 

Whatever  fruit  is  meant  in  the  story  related  in 
Genesis  of  the  fall  of  man,  none  could  make  it 
clearer  to  German  children  than  the  apple.  The 
Keilhau  ones  were  kept  in  a  cellar,  and  through 


The  forbidden  charms,  and  the  unexpected  lures  us. 


AUTUMN,  WINTER,  EASTER.     DEPARTURE.   229 

the  opening  we  thrust  a  pole  to  which  the  blade  of 
a  rapier  was  fastened.  This  sometimes  brought 
us  up  four  or  five  apples  at  once,  which  hung  on 
the  blade  like  the  flock  of  ducks  that  Baron  Mun- 
chausen's  musket  pierced  with  the  ramrod. 

We  were  all  honest  boys,  yet  not  one,  not  even 
the  sons  of  the  heads  of  the  institute,  ever  thought 
of  blaming  or  checking  the  zest  for  this  appropria- 
tion of  other  people's  property. 

The  apple  and  morality  must  stand  in  a  very 
peculiar  relation  to  each  other. 

Scarcely  was  the  last  fruit  gathered,  when  other 
pleasures  greeted  us. 

The  i8th  of  October,  the  anniversary  of  the 
battle  of  Leipsic,  was  celebrated  in  Thuringia  by 
kindling  bonfires  on  the  highest  mountains,  but 
ours  was  always  the  largest  and  brightest  far  and 
wide.  While  the  flames  soared  heavenward,  we  en- 
thusiastically sang  patriotic  songs.  The  old  Liit- 
zow  Jagers,  who  had  fought  for  the  freedom  of  Ger- 
many, led  the  chorus  and  gazed  with  tearful  eyes 
at  the  boys  whom  they  were  rearing  for  the  future 
supporters  and  champions  of  their  native  land. 

Then  winter  came. 

Snow  and  ice  usually  appeared  in  our  moun- 
tain valley  in  the  latter  half  of  November.  We 
welcomed  them,  for  winter  brought  coasting  parties 
down  the  mountains,  skating,  snow-balling,  the 
clumsy  snow-man,  and  that  most  active  of  mortals, 


230 


THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 


the  dancing-master,  who  not  only  instructed  us 
in  the  art  of  Terpsichore,  but  also  gave  us  rules 
of  decorum  which  were  an  abomination  to  Uncle 
Froebel. 

An  opportunity  to  put  them  into  practice  was 
close  at  hand,  for  the  apth  of  November  was  Ba- 
rop's  birthday,  which  was  celebrated  by  a  little 
dance  after  the  play. 

Those  who  took  part  in  the  performance  were 
excused  from  study  for  several  days  before,  for 
with  the  sapper's  help  we  built  the  stage,  and  even 
painted  the  scenes.  The  piece  was  rehearsed  till 
it  was  absolutely  faultless. 

I  took  an  active  part  in  all  these  matters  during 
my  entire  residence  at  the  institute,  and  we  three 
Ebers  brothers  had  the  reputation  of  being  among 
the  best  actors,  though  Martin  far  surpassed  us. 
We  had  invented  another  variety  of  theatrical  per- 
formances which  we  often  enjoyed  on  winter  even- 
ings after  supper,  unless  one  of  the  teachers  read 
aloud  to  us,  or  we  boys  performed  the  classic  dra- 
mas. While  I  was  one  of  the  younger  pupils,  we 
used  the  large  and  complete  puppet-show  which  be- 
longed to  the  institute  ;  but  afterwards  we  pre- 
ferred to  act  ourselves,  and  arranged  the  perform- 
ance according  to  a  plan  of  our  own. 

One  of  us  who  had  seen  a  play  during  the  vaca- 
tion at  home  told  the  others  the  plot.  The  whole 
was  divided  into  scenes,  and  each  character  was 


AUTUMN,  WINTER,  EASTER.     DEPARTURE.   231 

assigned  to  some  representative  who  was  left  to 
personate  it  according  to  his  own  conception, 
choosing  the  words  and  gestures  which  he  deemed 
most  appropriate. 

I  enjoyed  nothing  more  than  these  perform- 
ances; and  my  mother,  who  witnessed  several  of 
them  during  one  of  her  visits,  afterwards  said  that 
it  was  surprising  how  well  we  had  managed  the 
affair  and  acted  our  parts. 

For  a  long  time  I  was  the  moving  spirit  in  this 
play,  and  we  had  no  lack  of  talented  mimes,  per- 
sonators  of  sentimental  heroes,  and  droll  comedi- 
ans. The  women's  parts,  of  course,  were  also  taken 
by  boys.  Ludo  made  a  wonderfully  pretty  girl. 
I  was  sometimes  one  thing,  sometimes  another,  but 
almost  always  stage  manager. 

These  merry  improvisations  were  certainly  well 
fitted  to  strengthen  the  creative  power  and  activity 
of  our  intellects.  There  was  no  lack  of  admirable 
stage  properties,  for  the  large  wardrobe  of  the 
institute  was  at  our  disposal  whenever  we  wanted 
to  act,  which  was  at  least  once  a  week  during  the 
whole  winter,  except  in  the  Advent  season,  when 
everything  was  obliged  to  yield  to  the  demand  of 
the  approaching  Christmas  festival.  Then  we  were 
all  busy  in  making  presents  for  our  relatives.  The 
younger  ones  manufactured  various  cardboard  tri- 
fles ;  the  oMer  pupils,  as  embryo  cabinet-makers,  all 
sorts  of  pretty  and  useful  things,  especially  boxes. 
16 


232  THE  STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

Unluckily,  I  did  not  excel  as  a  cabinet-maker, 
though  I  managed  to  finish  tolerable  boxes ;  but 
my  mother  had  two  made  by  the  more  skilful  hands 
of  Ludo,  which  were  provided  with  locks  and 
hinges,  so  neatly  finished,  veneered,  and  polished 
that  many  a  trained  cabinet-maker's  apprentice 
could  have  done  no  better.  It  was  one  of  Froe- 
bel's  principles — as  I  have  already  mentioned — to 
follow  the  "  German  taste  for  manual  labor,"  and 
have  us  work  with  spades  and  pickaxes  (in  our 
plots  of  ground),  and  with  squares,  chisels,  and 
saws  (in  the  pasteboard  and  carving  lessons). 

A  clever  elderly  man,  the  sapper,  or  Sabum,  al- 
ready mentioned — I  think  I  never  heard  his  real 
name — instructed  us  in  the  trades  of  the  book- 
binder and  cabinet-maker.  He  was  said  to  have 
served  under  Napoleon  as  a  sapper,  and  afterwards 
settled  in  our  neighbourhood,  and  found  occu- 
pation in  Keilhau.  He  was  skilful  in  all  kinds  of 
manual  labour,  and  an  excellent  teacher.  The  near- 
er Christmas  came  the  busier  were  the  workshops ; 
and  while  usually  there  was  no  noise,  they  now  re- 
sounded with  Christmas  songs,  among  which — 

"  Up,  up,  my  lads  !  why  do  ye  sleep  so  long? 
The  night  has  passed,  and  day  begins  to  dawn  "  ; 

or  our  Berlin  one — 

"  Something  will  happen  to-morrow,  my  children," 
were  most  frequently  heard. 


AUTUMN,  WINTER,  EASTER.     DEPARTURE.   233 

Christmas  thoughts  filled  our  hearts  and  minds. 

Christmas  at  home  had  been  so  delightful  that 
the  first  year  I  felt  troubled  by  the  idea  that  the 
festival  must  be  celebrated  away  from  my  mother 
and  without  her.  But  after  we  had  shared  the 
Keilhau  holiday,  and  what  preceded  and  followed 
it,  we  could  not  decide  which  was  the  most  enjoy- 
able. 

Once  our  mother  was  present,  though  the  cause 
of  her  coming  was  not  exactly  a  joyous  one. 
About  a  week  before  the  Christmas  of  my  third 
year  at  Keilhau  I  went  to  the  hayloft  at  dusk,  and 
while  scuffling  with  a  companion  the  hay  slipped 
with  us  and  we  both  fell  to  the  barn-floor.  My 
school-mate  sustained  an  internal  injury,  while  I 
escaped  with  the  fracture  of  two  bones,  fortu- 
nately only  of  the  left  arm.  The  severe  suffering 
which  has  darkened  so  large  a  portion  of  my  life 
has  been  attributed  to  this  fracture,  but  the  idea 
is  probably  incorrect ;  otherwise  the  consequences 
would  have  appeared  earlier. 

At  first  the  arm  was  very  painful ;  yet  the 
thought  of  having  lost  the  Christmas  pleasures  was 
almost  worse.  But  the  experience  that  the  days 
from  which  we  expect  least  often  afford  us  most 
happiness  was  again  verified.  Barop  had  thought 
it  his  duty  to  inform  my  mother  of  this  serious 
accident,  and  two  or  three  days  later  she  arrived. 
Though  I  could  not  play  out  of  doors  with  the 


234 


THE   STORY  OF    MY   LIFE. 


others,  there  was  enough  to  enjoy  in  the  house 
with  her  and  some  of  my  comrades. 

Every  incident  of  that  Christmas  has  remained 
in  my  memory,  and,  though  Fate  should  grant  me 
many  more  years  of  life,  I  would  never  forget 
them.  First  came  the  suspense  and  excitement 
when  the  wagon  from  Rudolstadt  filled  with  boxes 
drove  into  the  court-yard,  and  then  the  watching 
for  those  which  might  be  meant  for  us. 

On  Christmas  eve,  when  at  home  the  bell  sum- 
moned us  to  the  Christmas-tree  the  delight  of  an- 
ticipation reached  its  climax,  and  expressed  itself 
in  song,  in  gayer  talk,  and  now  and  then  some 
harmless  scuffle. 

Then  we  went  to  bed,  with  the  firm  resolve  of 
waking  early  ;  but  the  sleep  of  youth  is  sounder 
than  any  resolution,  and  suddenly  unwonted  sounds 
roused  us,  perhaps  from  the  dreams  of  the  manger 
at  Bethlehem  and  the  radiant  Christmas-tree. 

Was  it  the  voice  of  the  angels  which  appeared 
to  the  shepherds  ?  The  melody  was  a  Christmas 
choral  played  by  the  Rudolstadt  band,  which  had 
been  summoned  to  waken  us  thus  pleasantly. 

Never  did  we  leave  our  beds  more  quickly  than 
in  the  darkness  of  that  early  morning,  illuminated 
as  usual  only  by  a  tallow  dip.  Rarely  was  the 
process  of  washing  more  speedily  accomplished — 
in  winter  we  were  often  obliged  to  break  a  crust 
of  ice  which  had  formed  over  the  water;  but  this 


AUTUMN,  WINTER,  EASTER.     DEPARTURE.   235 

time  haste  was  useless,  for  no  one  was  admitted 
into  the  great  hall  before  the  signal  was  given. 

At  last  it  sounded,  and  when  we  had  pressed 
through  the  wide-open  doors,  what  splendours 
greeted  our  enraptured  eyes  and  ears  ! 

The  whole  room  was  most  elaborately  decorated 
with  garlands  of  pine.  Wherever  the  light  entered 
the  windows  we  saw  transparencies  representing 
biblical  Christmas  scenes.  Christmas-trees — splen- 
did firs  of  stately  height  and  size,  which  two  days 
before  were  the  ornaments  of  the  forest — glittered 
in  the  light  of  the  candles,  which  was  reflected 
from  the  ruddy  cheeks  of  the  apples  and  the  gilded 
and  silvered  nuts.  Meanwhile  the  air,  "  O  night 
so  calm,  so  holy  ! "  floated  from  the  instruments  of 
the  musicians. 

Scarcely  had  we  taken  our  places  when  a  chorus 
of  many  voices  singing  the  angel's  greeting,  "  Glory 
to  God  in  the  highest,  peace  on  earth,"  recalled 
to  our  happy  hearts  the  sacredness  of  the  morning. 
Violins  and  horns  blended  with  the  voices;  then, 
before  even  the  most  excited  could  feel  the  least 
emotion  of  impatience,  the  music  ceased.  Barop 
stepped  forward,  and  in  the  deep,  earnest  tones 
peculiar  to  him  exclaimed,  "  Now  see  what  pleas- 
ures the  love  of  your  friends  has  prepared  for 
you  !  " 

The  devout,  ennobling  feelings  which  had  in- 
spired every  heart  were  scattered  to  the  four 


236  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

winds;  we  dispersed  like  a  flock  of  doves  threat- 
ened by  a  hawk,  and  the  search  for  the  places 
marked  by  a  label  began. 

One  had  already  seen  his  name  ;  a  near-sighted 
fellow  went  searching  from  table  to  table;  and 
here  and  there  one  boy  called  to  another  to  point 
out  what  his  sharp  eyes  had  detected.  On  every 
table  stood  a  Stolle*  the  Saxon  Christmas  bread 
called  in  Keilhau  SchUttchen,  and  a  large  plate  of 
nuts  and  cakes,  the  gift  of  the  institute.  Beside 
these,  either  on  the  tables  or  the  floor,  were  the 
boxes  from  home.  They  were  already  opened, 
but  the  unpacking  was  left  to  us — a  wise  thing ;  for 
what  pleasure  it  afforded  us  to  take  out  the  vari- 
ous gifts,  unwrap  them,  admire,  examine,  and  show 
them  to  others  ! 

Those  were  happy  days,  for  we  saw  only  joyous 
faces,  and  our  own  hearts  had  room  for  no  other 
feelings  than  the  heaven-born  sisters  Love,  Joy, 
and  Gratitude. 

We  entered  with  fresh  zeal  upon  the  season  of 
work  which  followed.  It  was  the  hardest  of  the 
twelve  months,  for  it  carried  us  to  Easter,  the 
close  of  the  school  year,  and  was  interrupted  only 
by  the  carnival  with  its  merry  masquerade. 

All  sorts  of  examinations  closed  the  term  of 
instruction.  On  Palm  Sunday  the  confirmation 

*  The  fine  pastry,  "the  stola  "  offered  to  the  church. 


AUTUMN,  WINTER,  EASTER.     DEPARTURE.   237 

services  took  place,  which  were  attended  by  the 
parents  of  many  of  the  pupils,  and  in  which  the 
whole  institute  shared. 

Then  came  the  vacation.  It  lasted  three  weeks, 
and  was  the  only  time  we  were  allowed  to  return 
home.  And  what  varied  pleasures  awaited  us 
there !  Martha,  whom  we  left  a  young  lady  of 
seventeen,  remained  unaltered  in  her  charming, 
gentle  grace,  but  Paula  changed  every  year.  One 
Easter  we  found  the  plump  school-girl  transformed 
into  a  slender  young  lady.  The  next  vacation  she 
had  been  confirmed,  wore  long  dresses,  had  lost 
every  trace  of  boyishness,  even  rarely  showed  any 
touch  of  her  former  drollery. 

She  did  not  care  to  go  to  the  theatre,  of  which 
Martha  was  very  fond,  unless  serious  dramas  were 
performed.  We,  on  the  contrary,  liked  farces.  I 
still  remember  a  political  quip  which  was  fre- 
quently repeated  at  the  Konigstadt  Theatre,  and 
whose  point  was  a  jeer  at  the  aspirations  of  the 
revolution  :  "  Property  is  theft,  or  a  Dream  of  a 
Red  Republican." 

We  were  in  the  midst  of  the  reaction  and  those 
who  had  fought  at  the  barricades  on  the  i8th  of 
March  applauded  when  the  couplet  was  sung,  of 
which  I  remember  these  lines : 

"  Ah  !  what  bliss  is  the  aspiration 
To  dangle  from  a  lamp-post 
As  a  martyr  for  the  nation  !  " 


238  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

During  these  vacations  politics  was  naturally 
a  matter  of  utter  indifference  to  us,  and  toward 
their  close  we  usually  paid  a  visit  to  my  grand- 
mother and  aunt  in  Dresden. 

So  the  years  passed  till  Easter  (1852)  came,  and 
with  it  our  confirmation  and  my  separation  from 
Ludo,  who  was  to  follow  a  different  career.  We 
had  double  instruction  in  confirmation,  first  with 
the  village  boys  from  the  pastor  of  Eichfeld,  and 
afterwards  from  Middendorf  at  the  institute. 

Unfortunately,  I  have  entirely  forgotten  what 
the  Eichfeld  clergyman  taught  us,  but  Midden- 
dorf's  lessons  made  all  the  deeper  impression. 

He  led  us  through  life  to  God  and  the  Saviour, 
and  thence  back  again  to  life. 

How  often,  after  one  of  these  lessons,  silence 
reigned,  and  teachers  and  pupils  rose  from  their 
seats  with  tearful  eyes  ! 

Afterwards  I  learned  from  a  book  which  had 
been  kept  that  what  he  gave  us  had  been  drawn 
chiefly  from  the  rich  experiences  of  his  own  life 
and  the  Gospels,  supplemented  by  the  writings  of 
his  favourite  teacher,  Schleiermacher.  By  contem- 
plation, the  consideration  of  the  universe  with  the 
soul  rather  than  with  the  mind,  we  should  enter 
into  close  relations  with  God  and  become  con- 
scious of  our  dependence  upon  him,  and  this  con- 
sciousness Middendorf  with  his  teacher  Schleier- 
macher called  "religion." 


AUTUMN,  WINTER,  EASTER.     DEPARTURE.    239 

But  the  old  Liitzow  Jager,  who  in  the  year 
1813  had  taken  up  arms  at  the  Berlin  University, 
had  also  sat  at  the  feet  of  Fichte,  and  therefore 
crowned  his  system  by  declaring,  like  the  latter, 
that  religion  was  not  feeling  but  perception. 
Whoever  attained  this,  arrived  at  a  clear  under- 
standing of  his  own  ego  (Middendorf's*  mental  un- 
derstanding of  life),  perfect  harmony  with  himself 
and  the  true  sanctification  of  his  soul.  This  man 
who,  according  to  our  Middendorf,  is  the  really 
religious  human  being,  will  be  in  harmony  with 
God  and  Nature,  and  find  an  answer  to  the  high- 
est of  all  questions. 

Froebel's  declaration  that  he  had  found  "  the 
unity  of  life,"  which  had  brought  Middendorf  to 
Keilhau,  probably  referred  to  Fichte.  The  phrase 
had  doubtless  frequently  been  used  by  them  in 
conversations  about  this  philosopher,  and  neither 
needed  an  explanation,  since  Fichte's  opinions  were 
familiar  to  both. 

We  candidates  for  confirmation  at  that  time 
knew  the  Berlin  philosopher  only  by  name,  and 
sentences  like  "  unity  with  one's  self,"  "  to  grasp 
and  fulfil,"  "inward  purity  of  life,"  etc.,  which 
every  one  who  was  taught  by  Middendorf  must 
remember,  at  first  seemed  perplexing;  but  our 
teacher,  who  considered  it  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance to  be  understood,  and  whose  purpose  was 
not  to  give  us  mere  words,  but  to  enrich  our  souls 


240  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

with  possessions  that  would  last  all  our  lives,  did 
not  cease  his  explanations  until  even  the  least 
gifted  understood  their  real  meaning. 

This  natural,  childlike  old  man  never  lectured; 
he  was  only  a  pedagogue  in  the  sense  of  the  an- 
cients— that  is,  a  guide  of  boys.  Though  precepts 
tinctured  by  philosophy  mingled  with  his  teachings, 
they  only  served  as  points  of  departure  for  state- 
ments which  came  to  him  from  the  soul  and  found 
their  way  to  it. 

He  possessed  a  comprehensive  knowledge  of 
the  religions  of  all  nations,  and  described  each  with 
equal  love  and  an  endeavour  to  show  us  all  their 
merits.  I  remember  how  warmly  he  praised  Con- 
fucius's  command  not  to  love  our  fellow-men  but 
to  respect  them,  and  how  sensible  and  beautiful  it 
seemed  to  me,  too,  in  those  days.  He  lingered 
longest  on  Buddhism  ;  and  it  surprises  me  now  to 
discover  how  well,  with  the  aids  then  at  his  com- 
mand, he  understood  the  touching  charity  of  Bud- 
dha and  the  deep  wisdom  and  grandeur  of  his  doc- 
trine. 

But  he  showed  us  the  other  religions  mainly  to 
place  Christianity  and  its  renewing  and  redeeming 
power  in  a  brighter  light.  The  former  served,  as 
it  were,  for  a  foil  to  the  picture  of  our  Saviour's 
religion  and  character,  which  he  desired  to  im- 
print upon  the  soul.  Whether  he  succeeded  in 
bringing  us  into  complete  "  unity  "  with  the  per- 


AUTUMN,  WINTER,  EASTER.     DEPARTURE.    241 

sonality  of  Christ,  to  which  he  stood  in  such  close 
relations,  is  doubtful,  but  he  certainly  taught  us  to 
understand  and  love  him;  and  this  love,  though  I 
have  also  listened  to  the  views  of  those  who  at- 
tribute the  creation  and  life  of  the  world  to  me- 
chanical causes,  and  believe  the  Deity  to  be  a  prod- 
uct of  the  human  intellect,  has  never  grown  cold 
up  to  the  present  day. 

The  code  of  ethics  which  Middendorf  taught 
was  very  simple.  His  motto,  as  I  have  said,  was, 
"True,  pure,  and  upright  in  life."  He  might  have 
added,  "  and  with  a  heart  full  of  love";  for  this 
was  what  distinguished  him  from  so  many,  what 
made  him  a  Christian  in  the  most  beautiful  sense 
of  the  word,  and  he  neglected  nothing  to  ren- 
der our  young  hearts  an  abiding-place  for  this 
love. 

Of  course,  our  mother  came  to  attend  our  con- 
firmation, which  first  took  place  with  the  peasant 
boys — who  all  wore  sprigs  of  lavender  in  their  but- 
ton-holes— in  the  village  church  at  Eichfeld,  and 
then,  with  Middendorf  officiating,  in  the  hall  of  the 
institute  at  Keilhau. 

Few  boys  ever  approached  the  communion- 
table for  the  first  time  in  a  more  devout  mood,  or 
with  hearts  more  open  to  all  good  things,  than  did 
we  two  brothers  that  day  on  our  mother's  right 
and  left  hand. 

No  matter  how  much  I  may  have  erred,  Mid- 


242  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

dendorf's  teachings  and  counsels  have  not  been 
wholly  lost  in  any  stage  of  my  career. 

After  the  confirmation  I  went  away  with  my 
mother  and  Ludo  for  the  vacation,  and  three 
weeks  later  I  returned  to  the  institute  without  my 
brother. 

I  missed  him  everywhere.  His  greater  discre- 
tion had  kept  me  from  many  a  folly,  and  my  need 
of  loving  some  one  found  satisfaction  in  him.  Be- 
sides, his  mere  presence  was  a  perpetual  reminder 
of  my  mother. 

Keilhau  was  no  longer  what  it  had  been.  New 
scenes  always  seem  desirable  to  young  people,  and 
for  the  first  time  I  longed  to  go  away,  though  I 
knew  nothing  of  my  destination  except  that  it 
would  be  a  gymnasium. 

Yet  I  loved  the  institute  and  its  teachers, 
though  I  did  not  realize  until  later  how  great  was 
my  debt  of  gratitude.  Here,  and  by  them,  the 
foundation  of  my  whole  future  life  was  laid,  and 
if  I  sometimes  felt  it  reel  under  my  feet,  the  Froe- 
bel  method  was  not  in  fault. 

The  institute  could  not  dismiss  us  as  finished 
men  ;  the  desired  "  unity  with  life  "  can  be  attained 
only  upon  its  stage — the  world — in  the  motley 
throng  of  fellow-men,  but  minds  and  bodies  were 
carefully  trained  according  to  their  individual 
peculiarities,  and  I  might  consider  myself  capable 
of  receiving  higher  lessons.  True,  my  character 


AUTUMN,  WINTER,  EASTER.     DEPARTURE. 


243 


was  not  yet  steeled  sufficiently  to  resist  every 
temptation,  but  I  no  longer  need  fear  the  danger 
of  crossing  the  barrier  which  Froebel  set  for  men 
"  worthy  "  in  his  sense. 

My  acquirements  were  deficient  in  many  re- 
spects, but  what  the  French  term  "justesse  d' esprit" 
had  to  a  certain  degree  become  mine,  as  in  the  case 
of  every  Keilhau  boy,  through  our  system  of  edu- 
cation. 

Though  I  could  not  boast  of  "being  one  with 
Nature,"  we  had  formed  a  friendly  alliance,  and 
I  learned  by  my  own  experience  the  truth  of 
Goethe's  words,  that  it  was  the  only  book  which 
offers  valuable  contents  on  every  page. 

I  was  not  yet  familiar  with  life,  but  I  had 
learned  to  look  about  with  open  eyes. 

I  had  not  become  a  master  in  any  handicraft, 
but  I  had  learned  with  paste-pot  and  knife,  saw, 
plane,  and  chisel — nay,  even  axe  and  handspike — 
what  manual  labour  meant  and  how  to  use  my 
hands. 

I  had  by  no  means  attained  to  union  with  God, 
but  I  had  acquired  the  ability  and  desire  to  recog- 
nize his  government  in  Nature  as  well  as  in  life; 
for  Middendorf  had  understood  how  to  lead  us 
into  a  genuine  filial  relation  with  him  and  awaken 
in  our  young  hearts  love  for  him  who  kindles  in 
the  hearts  of  men  the  pure  flame  of  love  for  their 
neighbours. 


244  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

The  Greek  words*  which  Langethal  wrote  in 
my  album,  and  which  mean  "Be  truthful  in  love," 
were  beginning  to  be  as  natural  to  me  as  abhor- 
rence of  cowardice  and  falsehood  had  long  been. 

Love  for  our  native  land  was  imprinted  indeli- 
bly on  my  soul,  and  lives  there  joyously,  ready  to 
sacrifice  for  the  freedom  and  greatness  of  Germany 
even  what  I  hold  dearest. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

THE    GYMNASIUM    AND    THE    FIRST    PERIOD    OF 
UNIVERSITY    LIFE. 

IT  was  hard  for  me  to  leave  Keilhau,  but  our 
trip  to  Rudolstadt,  to  which  my  dearest  compan- 
ions accompanied  me,  was  merry  enough.  With 
Barop's  permission  we  had  a  banquet  in  the  peas- 
ant tavern  there,  whose  cost  was  defrayed  by  the 
kreutzers  which  had  been  paid  as  fines  for  offences 
against  table  rules.  At  one  of  these  tables  where 
we  larger  boys  sat,  only  French  was  spoken ;  at 
another  only  the  purest  German;  and  we  had  our- 
selves made  the  rule  that  whoever  used  a  word  of 
his  native  tongue  at  one,  or  a  foreign  one  at  the 
other,  should  be  fined  a  kreutzer. 


THE   GYMNASIUM. 


245 


How  merry  were  these  banquets,  at  which  usu- 
ally several  teachers  were  welcome  guests  ! 

One  of  the  greatest  advantages  of  Keilhau  was 
that  our  whole  lives,  and  even  our  pleasures,  were 
pure  enough  not  to  shun  a  teacher's  eyes.  And 
yet  we  were  true,  genuine  boys,  whose  overplus  of 
strength  found  vent  not  only  in  play,  but  all  sorts 
of  foolish  tricks. 

A  smile  still  hovers  around  my  lips  when  I 
think  of  the  frozen  snow-man  on  whose  head  we 
put  a  black  cap  and  then  placed  in  one  of  the 
younger  teacher's  rooms  to  personate  a  ghost,  and 
the  difficulty  we  had  in  transporting  the  monster, 
or  when  I  remember  our  pranks  in  the  dormitory. 

I  believe  I  am  mentioning  these  cheerful  things 
here  to  give  myself  a  brief  respite,  for  the  portion 
of  my  life  which  followed  is  the  one  I  least  desire 
to  describe. 

Rousseau  says  that  man's  education  is  com- 
pleted by  art,  Nature,  and  circumstances.  The 
first  two  factors  had  had  their  effect  upon  me,  and 
I  was  now  to  learn  for  the  first  time  to  reckon  in- 
dependently with  the  last ;  hitherto  they  had  been 
watched  and  influenced  in  my  favour  by  others. 
This  had  been  done  not  only  by  masters  of  the  art 
of  pedagogy,  but  by  their  no  less  powerful  co-edu- 
cators, my  companions,  among  whom  there  was 
not  a  single  corrupt,  ill-disposed  boy.  I  was  now 
to  learn  what  circumstances  I  should  find  in  my 


246  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

new  relations,  and  in  what  way  they  would  prove 
teachers  to  me. 

I  was  to  be  placed  at  school  in  Kottbus,  at  that 
time  still  a  little  manufacturing  town  in  the  Mark. 
My  mother  did  not  venture  to  keep  me  in  Berlin 
during  the  critical  years  now  approaching.  Kott- 
bus was  not  far  away,  and  knowing  that  I  was 
backward  in  the  science  that  Dr.  Boltze,  the  mathe- 
matician, taught,  she  gave  him  the  preference  over 
the  heads  of  the  other  boarding-schools  in  the 
Mark. 

I  was  not  reluctant  to  undertake  the  hard  work, 
yet  I  felt  like  a  colt  which  is  led  from  the  pastures 
to  the  stable. 

A  visit  to  my  grandmother  in  Dresden,  and 
many  pleasures  which  I  was  permitted  to  share 
with  my  brothers  and  sisters,  seemed  to  me  like  the 
respite  before  execution. 

My  mother  accompanied  me  to  my  new  school, 
and  I  can  not  describe  the  gloomy  impression 
made  by  the  little  manufacturing  town  on  the  flat 
plains  of  the  Mark,  which  at  that  time  certainly 
possessed  nothing  that  could  charm  a  boy  born  in 
Berlin  and  educated  in  a  beautiful  mountain  valley. 

In  front  of  Dr.  Boltze's  house  we  found  the 
man  to  whose  care  I  was  to  be  entrusted.  At  that 
time  he  was  probably  scarcely  forty  years  old, 
short  in  stature  and  very  erect,  with  a  shrewd  face 
whose  features  indicated  an  iron  sternness  of  char- 


THE   GYMNASIUM. 


247 


acter,  an  impression  heightened  by  the  thick,  bushy 
brows  which  met  above  his  nose. 

He  himself  said  that  people  in  Pomerania  be- 
lieved that  men  with  such  eyebrows  stood  in  close 
relations  to  Satan.  Once,  while  on  his  way  in  a 
boat  from  Greifswald  to  the  island  of  Rugen,  the 
superstitious  sailors  were  on  the  point  of  throwing 
him  overboard  because  they  attributed  their  peril 
to  him  as  the  child  of  the  devil,  yet,  he  added — 
and  he  was  a  thoroughly  truthful  man — the  power 
which  these  strange  eyebrows  gave  him  over  oth- 
ers, and  especially  over  men  of  humble  station,  in- 
duced them  to  release  him. 

But  after  we  had  learned  what  a  jovial,  indul- 
gent comrade  was  hidden  behind  the  iron  tyrant 
who  gazed  so  threateningly  at  us  from  the  black 
eyes  beneath  the  bushy  brows,  our  timidity  van- 
ished, and  at  last  we  found  it  easy  enough  to  in- 
duce him  to  change  a  resolute  "  No  "  into  a  yielding 
"Yes." 

His  wife,  on  the  contrary,  was  precisely  his  op- 
posite, for  she  wielded  the  sceptre  in  the  household 
with  absolute  sway,  though  so  fragile  a  creature 
that  it  seemed  as  if  a  breath  would  blow  her  away. 
No  one  could  have  been  a  more  energetic  house- 
keeper. She  was  as  active  an  assistant  to  her  hus- 
band with  her  pen  as  with  her  tongue.  Most  of 
my  reports  are  in  her  writing.  Besides  this,  one 
pretty,  healthy  child  after  another  was  born,  and 
17 


248  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

she  allowed  herself  but  a  brief  time  for  convales- 
cence. I  was  the  godfather  of  one  of  these  babies, 
an  honour  shared  by  my  school-mate,  Von  Loben- 
stein.  The  baptismal  ceremony  was  performed  in 
the  Boltze  house.  The  father  and  we  were  each 
to  write  a  name  on  a  slip  of  paper  and  lay  it  beside 
the  font.  We  had  selected  the  oddest  ones  we 
could  think  of,  and  when  the  pastor  picked  up  the 
slips  he  read  Gerhard  and  Habakkuk.  Thanks  to 
the  care  and  wisdom  of  his  excellent  mother,  the 
boy  throve  admirably  in  spite  of  his  cognomen,  and 
I  heard  to  my  great  pleasure  that  he  has  become  an 
able  man. 

This  boyish  prank  is  characteristic  of  our  rela- 
tions. If  we  did  not  go  too  far,  Frau  Boltze  always 
took  our  part,  and  understood  how  to  smooth  her 
husband's  frowning  brow  quickly  enough.  Besides, 
it  was  a  real  pleasure  to  be  on  good  terms  with 
her,  for,  as  the  daughter  of  a  prominent  official, 
she  had  had  an  excellent  education,  and  her  quick 
wit  did  honour  to  her  native  city,  Berlin. 

Had  Dr.  Boltze  performed  his  office  of  tutor  with 
more  energy,  it  would  have  been  better  for  us ;  but 
in  other  respects  I  can  say  of  him  nothing  but  good. 

The  inventions  he  made  in  mechanics,  I  have 
been  told  by  experts,  were  very  important  for  the 
times  and  deserved  greater  success.  Among  them 
was  a  coach  moved  by  electricity. 

My  mother  and  I  were  cordially  welcomed  by 


THE   GYMNASIUM. 


249 


this  couple,  on  conversing  with  whom  my  first 
feeling  of  constraint  vanished. 

The  examination  next  morning  almost  placed 
me  higher  than  I  expected,  for  the  head-master 
who  heard  me  translate  at  first  thought  me  pre- 
pared for  the  first  class ;  but  Pro-Rector  Braune, 
who  examined  me  in  Latin  grammar,  said  that  I 
was  fitted  only  for  the  second. 

When  I  left  the  examination  hall  I  was  intro- 
duced by  Dr.  Boltze  to  one  of  my  future  school- 
fellows in  the  person  of  an  elegant  young  gentle- 
man who  had  just  alighted  from  a  carriage  and 
was  patting  the  necks  of  the  horses  which  he  had 
driven  himself. 

I  had  supposed  him  to  be  a  lieutenant  in  civil- 
ian's dress,  for  his  dark  mustache,  small  whiskers, 
and  the  military  cut  of  his  hair,  which  already  be- 
gan to  be  somewhat  thin,  made  me  add  a  lustrum 
to  his  twenty-one  years. 

After  my  new  tutor  had  left  us  this  strange 
school-fellow  entered  into  conversation  with  me 
very  graciously,  and  after  telling  me  many  things 
about  the  school  and  its  management  which  seemed 
incredible,  he  passed  on  to  the  pupils,  among  whom 
were  some  "nice  fellows,"  and  mentioned  a  num- 
ber of  names,  principally  of  noble  families  whose 
bearers  had  come  here  to  obtain  the  graduation 
certificate,  the  key  without  which  so  many  doors 
are  closed  in  Prussia. 


250 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 


Then  he  proceeded  to  describe  marvels  which  I 
was  afterwards  to  witness,  but  which  at  that  time 
I  did  not  know  whether  1  ought  to  consider  de- 
lightful or  quite  the  contrary. 

Of  course,  I  kept  my  doubts  to  myself  and 
joined  in  when  he  laughed ;  but  my  heart  was 
heavy.  Could  I  avoid  these  companions  ?  Yet  I 
had  come  to  be  industrious,  prepare  quickly  for  the 
university,  and  give  my  mother  pleasure. 

Poor  woman  !  She  had  made  such  careful  in- 
quiries before  sending  me  here;  and  what  a  dan- 
gerous soil  for  a  precocious  boy  just  entering  the 
years  of  youth  was  this  manufacturing  town  and 
an  institution  so  badly  managed  as  the  Kott- 
bus  School  !  I  had  come  hither  full  of  beautiful 
ideals  and  animated  by  the  best  intentions;  but 
the  very  first  day  made  me  suspect  how  many 
obstacles  I  should  encounter ;  though  I  did  not 
yet  imagine  the  perils  which  lay  in  my  compan- 
ion's words.  All  the  young  gentlemen  who  had 
been  drawn  hither  by  the  examination  were  sons 
of  good  families,  but  the  part  which  these  pu- 
pils, and  I  with  them,  played  in  society,  at  balls, 
and  in  all  the  amusements  of  the  cultivated  cir- 
cle in  the  town  was  so  prominent,  the  views  of  life 
and  habits  which  they  brought  with  them  so  com- 
pletely contradicted  the  idea  which  every  sensible 
person  has  of  a  grammar-school  boy,  that  their 
presence  could  not  fail  to  injure  the  school. 


THE    MOTHER    OF    GEORG    EBERS. 


(See  page  5.) 


THE   GYMNASIUM. 


251 


Of  course,  all  this  could  not  remain  perma- 
nently concealed  from  the  higher  authorities. 

The  old  head-master  was  suddenly  retired,  and 
one  of  the  best  educators  summoned  in  his  place — 
a  man  who  quickly  succeeded  in  making  the  de- 
caying Kottbus  School  one  of  the  most  excellent 
in  all  Prussia.  I  had  the  misfortune  of  being  for 
more  than  two  years  a  pupil  under  the  government 
of  the  first  head-master,  and  the  good  luck  of 
spending  nearly  the  same  length  of  time  under  the 
charge  of  his  successor. 

My  mother  was  satisfied  with  the  result  of  the 
examination,  and  the  next  afternoon  she  drove 
with  me  to  our  relatives  at  Komptendorf.  Frau 
von  Berndt,  the  youngest  daughter  of  our  beloved 
kinsman,  Moritz  von  Oppenfeld,  united  to  the  ele- 
gance of  a  woman  reared  in  a  large  city  the  cor- 
diality of  the  mistress  of  a  country  home.  Her  hus- 
band won  the  entire  confidence  of  every  one  who 
met  the  gaze  of  his  honest  blue  eyes.  He  had 
given  up  the  legal  profession  to  take  charge  of  his 
somewhat  impoverished  paternal  estate,  and  soon 
transformed  it  into  one  of  the  most  productive  in 
the  whole  neighbourhood. 

He  was  pleased  that  I,  a  city  boy,  knew  so 
much  about  field  and  forest,  so  at  my  very  first 
visit  he  invited  me  to  repeat  it  often. 

The  next  morning  I  took  leave  of  my  mother, 
and  my  school  life  began.  In  many  points  I  was 


252  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

in  advance  of  the  other  pupils  in  the  second  class, 
in  others  behind  them  ;  but  this  troubled  me  very 
little — school  seemed  a  necessary  evil.  My  real 
life  commenced  after  its  close,  and  here  also  my 
natural  cheerfulness  ruled  my  whole  nature.  The 
town  offered  me  few  attractions,  but  the  country 
was  full  of  pleasures.  Unfortunately,  I  could  not 
go  to  Komptendorf  as  often  as  I  wished,  for  it 
was  a  two  hours'  walk,  and  horses  and  carriages 
were  not  always  at  my  disposal.  Yet  many  a 
Saturday  found  me  there,  enjoying  the  delight  of 
chatting  with  my  kind  hostess  about  home  news 
and  other  pleasant  things,  or  reading  aloud  to 
her. 

Even  in  the  second  year  of  my  stay  at  Kott- 
bus  I  went  to  every  dance  given  on  the  estates  in 
the  neighbourhood  and  visited  many  a  delightful 
home  in  the  town.  Then  there  were  long  walks — 
sometimes  with  Dr.  Boltze  and  my  school-mates, 
sometimes  with  friends,  and  often  alone. 

We  frequently  took  a  Sunday  walk,  which  often 
began  on  Saturday  afternoon,  usually  with  merry 
companions  and  in  the  society  of  our  stern  master, 
who,  gayer  than  the  youngest  of  us,  needed  our 
care  rather  than  we  his.  In  this  way  I  visited  the 
beautiful  Muskau,  and  still  more  frequently  the 
lovely  woodlands  of  the  Spree,  a  richly  watered 
region  intersected  by  numerous  arms  of  the  river 
and  countless  canals,  resting  as  quietly  under  dense 


THE   TIME   OF   EFFERVESCENCE. 


253 


masses  of  foliage  as  a  child  asleep  at  noontide  be- 
neath the  shadow  of  a  tree. 

The  alders  and  willows,  lindens  and  oaks,  which 
grow  along  the  banks,  are  superb ;  flocks  of  birds 
fly  twittering  and  calling  from  one  bush  and 
branch  to  another;  but  all  human  intercourse  is 
carried  on,  as  in  Venice,  by  boats  which  glide 
noiselessly  to  and  fro. 

Whoever  desires  a  faithful  and  minute  picture  of 
this  singular  region,  which  reminded  me  of  many 
scenes  in  Holland  and  many  of  Hobbema's  paint- 
ings, should  read  The  Goddess  of  Noon.  It  con- 
tains a  number  of  descriptions  whose  truth  and 
vividness  are  matchless. 

Every  trip  into  the  woodlands  of  the  Spree  of- 
fered an  abundance  of  beautiful  and  pleasurable 
experiences,  but  I  remember  with  still  greater  en- 
joyment my  leafy  nooks  on  the  river-bank. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE    TIME    OF    EFFERVESCENCE,    AND    MY    SCHOOL- 
MATES. 

ALTHOUGH  the  events  of  my  school-days  at 
Kottbus  long  since  blended  together  in  my  mem- 
ory, my  life  there  is  divided  into  two  sharply  de- 
fined portions.  The  latter  commences  with  Pro- 
fessor Tzschirner's  appointment  and  the  reform  in 
the  school. 


254  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

From  the  first  day  of  the  latter's  government  I 
can  recall  what  was  taught  us  in  the  class  and  how 
it  influenced  me,  while  I  have  entirely  forgotten 
what  occurred  during  the  interim.  This  seems 
strange ;  for,  while  Langethal's,  Middendorf 's,  and 
Barop's  instruction,  which  I  received  when  so 
much  younger,  remains  vividly  impressed  on  my 
memory,  and  it  is  the  same  with  Tzschirner's  les- 
sons, the  knowledge  I  acquired  between  my  fif- 
teenth and  seventeenth  year  is  effaced  as  com- 
pletely as  though  I  had  passed  a  sponge  over  the 
slate  of  my  memory.  A  chasm  yawns  between 
these  periods  of  instruction,  and  I  cannot  ascribe 
this  circumstance  entirely  to  the  amusements 
which  withdrew  my  thoughts  from  study  ;  for  they 
continued  under  Tzschirner's  rule,  though  with 
some  restrictions.  I  wish  I  could  believe  that 
everything  which  befel  me  then  had  remained 
entirely  without  influence  on  my  inner  life. 

A  demon — I  can  find  no  other  name — urged 
me  to  all  sorts  of  follies,  many  of  which  I  still  re- 
member with  pleasure,  and,  thank  Heaven,  not  a 
single  one  which  a  strict  teacher — supposing  that 
he  had  not  forgotten  how  to  put  himself  into  the 
place  of  a  youth — would  seriously  censure.  The 
effervescing  spirits  which  did  not  find  vent  in 
such  pranks  obtained  expression  in  a  different 
form. 

I  had  begun  to  write,  and  every  strong  emotion 


THE    TIME   OF    EFFERVESCENCE. 


255 


was  uttered  in  verses,  which  I  showed  to  the  com- 
panions from  whom  I  could  expect  sympathy. 

My  school-mates  were  very  unlike.  Among  the 
young  gentlemen  who  paid  a  high  price  to  attend 
the  school  not  a  single  one  had  been  really  indus- 
trious and  accomplished  anything.  But  neither 
did  any  one  of  the  few  lads  whose  fathers  were 
peasants,  or  who  belonged  to  the  lower  ranks, 
stand  at  the  head  of  his  class.  They  were  very 
diligent,  but  success  rarely  corresponded  with  the 
amount  of  labour  employed.  The  well-educated 
but  by  no  means  wealthy  middle  class  supplied 
the  school  with  its  best  material. 

The  evolution  of  the  human  soul  is  a  strange 
thing.  The  period  during  which,  in  my  overflow- 
ing mirth,  I  played  all  sorts  of  wild  pranks,  and  at 
school  worked  earnestly  for  one  teacher  only,  often 
found  me  toiling  late  at  night  for  hours  with  burn- 
ing head  over  a  profound  creation — I  called  it 
The  Poem  of  the  World — in  which  I  tried  to  rep- 
resent the  origin  of  cosmic  and  human  life. 

Many  other  verses,  from  a  sonnet  to  the  beau- 
tiful ears  of  a  pretty  cousin  to  the  commencement 
of  the  tragedy  of  Panthea  and  Abradatus,  were 
written  at  that  time ;  but  I  owe  The  Poem  of  the 
World  special  gratitude,  for  it  kept  me  from  many 
a  folly,  and  often  held  me  for  weeks  at  my  desk 
during  the  evening  hours  which  many  of  my  com- 
rades spent  in  the  tavern.  Besides,  it  attracted 


256  THE   STORY   OF   MY    LIFE. 

the  new  head-master's  attention  to  my  poetical 
tastes,  for  a  number  of  verses  had  been  left  by 
mistake  in  an  exercise-book.  He  read  them,  and 
asked  to  see  the  rest.  But  I  could  not  fulfil  the 
wish,  for  they  contained  many  things  which  could 
not  fail  to  offend  him ;  so  I  gave  him  only  a  few 
of  the  tamest  passages,  and  can  still  see  him  smile 
in  his  peculiar  way  as  he  read  them  in  my  pres- 
ence. He  said  something  about  "decided  talent," 
and  when  preparations  for  the  celebration  of  the 
birthday  of  King  Frederick  William  IV  were  made 
he  gave  me  the  task  of  composing  an  original 
poem.  I  gladly  accepted  it.  Writing  was  a  great 
pleasure,  and  though  my  productions  at  school 
were  far  too  irregular  for  me  to  call  them  good, 
I  was  certainly  the  best  declaimer. 

The  New  Head  of  the  School. 

Before  passing  on  to  other  subjects,  I  must  de- 
vote a  few  words  to  the  remodelling  of  the  school 
and  its  new  head. 

At  the  end  of  my  first  term  in  the  first  class  we 
learned  that  we  were  to  have  a  new  teacher,  and 
one  who  would  rule  with  a  rod  of  iron.  Terrible 
stories  of  his  Draconian  severity  were  in  circula- 
tion, and  his  first  address  gave  us  reason  to  fear 
the  worst,  for  the  tall  man  of  forty  in  the  profess- 
or's chair  was  very  imposing  in  his  appearance. 
His  smoothly  shaven  upper  lip  and  brown  whiskers, 


THE   TIME  OF   EFFERVESCENCE. 


257 


his  erect  bearing  and  energetic  manner,  reminded 
one  of  an  English  parliamentary  leader,  but  his 
words  sounded  almost  menacing.  He  said  that  an 
entirely  new  house  must  be  erected.  We  and  the 
teachers  must  help  him.  To  the  obedient  he  would 
be  a  good  friend ;  but  to  the  refractory,  no  matter 
what  might  be  their  position,  he  would —  What 
followed  made  many  of  us  nudge  one  another,  and 
the  young  men  who  attended  the  school  merely  for 
the  sake  of  the  examination  left  it  in  a  body. 
Many  a  teacher  even  changed  colour. 

This  reorganizer,  Professor  Tzschirner,  had 
formerly  been  principal  of  the  Magdalen  Gymna- 
sium at  Breslau.*  In  energy  and  authoritative 
manner  he  resembled  Barop,  but  he  was  also  an 
eminent  scholar  and  a  thorough  man  of  the  world. 
The  authorities  in  Berlin  made  an  excellent  choice, 
and  we  members  of  the  first  class  soon  perceived 
that  he  not  only  meant  kindly  by  us,  but  that  we 
had  obtained  in  him  a  teacher  far  superior  to  any 
we  had  possessed  before.  He  required  a  great 
deal,  but  he  was  a  good  friend  to  every  one  who 
did  his  duty.  His  kindly  intention  and  inspiring 
influence  made  themselves  felt  in  our  lives;  for  he 
invited  to  his  house  the  members  of  the  first  class 
whom  he  desired  to  influence,  and  his  charming, 

*  Lassalle  was  one  of  his  pupils,  and  he  was  the  same  strict 
teacher  whom  the  former  in  his  journal  of  his  boyhood  so  bit- 
terly execrated. 


258  THE   STORY   OF   MY    LIFE. 

highly  educated  wife  helped  him  entertain  us,  so 
that  we  preferred  an  evening  there  to  almost  any 
other  amusements.  Study  began  to  charm  us,  and 
I  can  only  repeat  that  he  seemed  to  recall  Lan- 
gethal's  method  and  awaken  many  things  which 
the  latter  had  given  me,  and  which,  as  it  were,  had 
fallen  asleep  during  the  interval.  He  again  aroused 
in  my  soul  the  love  for  the  ancients,  and  his  inter- 
pretations of  Horace  or  Sophocles  were  of  great 
service  to  me  in  after-years. 

Nor  did  he  by  any  means  forget  grammar,  but 
in  explaining  the  classics  he  always  laid  most  stress 
upon  the  contents,  and  every  lesson  of  his  was  a 
clever  archaeological,  aesthetic,  and  historical  lec- 
ture. I  listened  to  none  more  instructive  at  the 
university.  Philological  and  linguistic  details 
which  were  not  suited  for  the  senior  pupils  who 
were  being  fitted  for  other  callings  than  those  of 
the  philologist  were  omitted.  But  he  insisted  upon 
grammatical  correctness,  and  never  lost  sight  of 
his  maxim,  "The  school  should  teach  its  pupils  to 
do  thoroughly  whatever  they  do  at  all." 

He  urged  us  especially  to  think  for  ourselves, 
and  to  express  our  ideas  clearly  and  attractively, 
not  only  in  writing  but  verbally. 

It  seemed  as  though  a  spring  breeze  had  melted 
the  snow  from  the  land,  such  bourgeoning  and  blos- 
soming appeared  throughout  the  school. 

Creative  work  was  done  by  fits  and  starts.     If 


THE   TIME   OF   EFFERVESCENCE. 


259 


the  demon  seized  upon  me,  I  raved  about  for  a 
time  as  before,  but  I  did  my  duty  for  the  principal. 
I  not  only  honoured  but  loved  him,  and  censure 
from  his  lips  would  have  been  unbearable. 

The  poem  which  I  was  to  read  on  the  king's 
birthday  has  been  preserved,  and  as  I  glanced  over 
it  recently  I  could  not  help  smiling. 

It  was  to  describe  the  life  of  Henry  the  Fowler, 
and  refer  to  the  reigning  king,  Frederick  William 
IV. 

The  praise  of  my  hero  had  come  from  my  heart, 
so  the  poem  found  favour,  and  in  circles  so  wide 
that  the  most  prominent  man  in  the  neighbourhood, 
Prince  Piickler-Muskau,  sent  for  my  verses. 

I  was  perfectly  aware  that  they  did  not  repre- 
sent my  best  work,  but  what  father  does  not  find 
something  to  admire  in  his  child  ?  So  I  copied  them 
neatly,  and  gave  them  to  Billy,  the  dwarf,  the 
prince's  factotum.  A  short  time  after,  while  I  was 
walking  with  some  friends  in  Branitz  Park,  the 
prince  summoned  me,  and  greeted  me  with  the  ex- 
clamation, "  You  are  a  poet !  " 

These  four  words  haunted  me  a  long  while; 
nay,  at  times  they  even  echo  in  my  memory  now. 

I  had  heard  a  hundred  anecdotes  of  this  prince, 
which  could  not  fail  to  charm  a  youth  of  my  dis- 
position. When  a  young  officer  of  the  Garde-du- 
Corps  in  Dresden,  after  having  been  intentionally 
omitted  from  the  invitations  to  a  court-ball,  he 


260  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

hired  all  the  public  conveyances  in  the  city,  thus 
compelling  most  of  the  gentlemen  and  ladies  who 
were  invited  either  to  wade  through  the  snow  or 
forego  the  dance. 

When  the  war  of  1813  began  he  entered  the 
service  of  "  the  liberators,"  as  the  Russians  were 
then  called,  and  at  the  head  of  his  regiment  chal- 
lenged the  colonel  of  a  French  one  to  a  duel,  and 
seriously  wounded  him. 

It  was  apparently  natural  to  Prince  Piickler  to 
live  according  to  his  own  pleasure,  undisturbed  by 
the  opinions  of  his  fellow-men,  and  this  pleasure 
urged  him  to  pursue  a  different  course  in  almost 
every  phase  of  life.  I  said  "apparently,"  because, 
although  he  scorned  the  censure  of  the  people,  he 
never  lost  sight  of  it.  From  a  child  his  intense 
vanity  was  almost  a  passion,  and  unfortunately 
this  constant  looking  about  him,  the  necessity  of 
being  seen,  prevented  him  from  properly  develop- 
ing an  intellect  capable  of  far  higher  things ;  yet 
there  was  nothing  petty  in  his  character. 

His  highest  merit,  however,  was  the  energy  with 
which  he  understood  how  to  maintain  his  independ- 
ence in  the  most  difficult  circumstances  in  which 
life  placed  him.  To  one  department  of  activity, 
especially,  that  of  gardening,  he  devoted  his  whole 
powers.  His  parks  can  vie  with  the  finest  pleas- 
ure-grounds of  all  countries. 

At  the  time  I  first  met  him  he  was  sixty-nine 


THE    TIME   OF    EFFERVESCENCE.  26l 

years  old,  but  looked  much  younger,  except  when 
he  sometimes  appeared  with  his  hair  powdered 
until  it  was  snow-white.  His  figure  was  tall  and 
finely  proportioned,  and  though  a  sarcastic  smile 
sometimes  hovered  around  his  lips,  the  expression 
of  his  face  was  very  kindly.  His  eyes,  which  I 
remember  as  blue,  were  somewhat  peculiar.  When 
he  wished  to  please,  they  sparkled  with  a  warm — I 
might  almost  say  tender — light,  which  must  have 
made  many  a  young  heart  throb  faster.  Yet  I 
think  he  loved  himself  too  much  to  give  his  whole 
affection  to  any  one. 

In  the  Senior  Class. 

A  great  man  has  always  seemed  to  me  the 
greatest  of  created  things,  and  though  Prince  Piick- 
ler  can  scarcely  be  numbered  among  the  great 
men  of  mankind,  he  was  undoubtedly  the  greatest 
among  those  who  surrounded  him  at  Branitz.  In 
me,  the  youth  of  nineteen,  he  awakened  admiration, 
interest,  and  curiosity,  and  his  "You  are  a  poet  " 
sometimes  strengthened  my  courage,  sometimes 
disheartened  me.  My  boyish  ambitions  in  those 
days  had  but  one  purpose,  and  that  was  the  voca- 
tion of  a  poet. 

I  was  still  ignorant  that  the  Muse  kisses  only 
those  who  have  won  her  love  by  the  greatest  suf- 
ferings. Life  as  yet  seemed  a  festal  hall,  and  as 
the  bird  flies  from  bough  to  bough  wherever  a  red 


262  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

berry  tempts  him,  my  heart  was  attracted  by  every 
pair  of  bright  eyes  which  glanced  kindly  at  me. 

When  I  entered  upon  my  last  term,  my  Lepo- 
rello  list  was  long  enough,  and  contained  pictures 
from  many  different  classes.  But  my  hour,  too, 
seemed  on  the  point  of  striking,  for  when  I  went 
home  in  my  last  Christmas  vacation  I  thought  my- 
self really  in  love  with  the  charming  daughter  of 
the  pleasant  widow  of  a  landed  proprietor.  Nay, 
though  only  nineteen,  I  even  considered  whether 
I  should  not  unite  her  destiny  with  mine,  and 
formally  ask  her  hand.  My  father  had  offered 
himself  to  my  mother  at  the  same  age. 

In  Kottbus  I  was  treated  with  the  respect  due 
to  a  man,  but  at  home  I  was  still  "the  boy,"  and 
the  youngest  of  us  three  "  little  ones."  Ludo,  as  a 
lieutenant,  had  a  position  in  society,  while  I  was 
yet  a  schoolboy.  Amid  these  surroundings  I  real- 
ized how  hasty  and  premature  my  intention  had 
been. 

Only  four  of  us  came  to  keep  Christmas  at 
home,  for  Martha  now  lived  in  Dresden  as  the  wife 
of  Lieutenant  Baron  Curt  von  Brandenstein,  the 
nephew  of  our  Aunt  Sophie's  husband.  Her  wed- 
ding ceremony  in  the  cathedral  was,  of  course,  per- 
formed by  the  court-chaplain  Strauss. 

My  grandmother  had  died,  but  my  Aunt.  Sophie 
still  lived  in  Dresden,  and  spent  her  summers  in 
Blasewitz.  Her  hospitable  house  always  afforded 


THE   TIME   OF    EFFERVESCENCE.  263 

an  atmosphere  very  stimulating  to  intellectual  life, 
so  I  spent  more  time  there  than  in  my  mother's 
more  quiet  residence  at  Pillnitz. 

I  had  usually  passed  part  of  the  long — or,  as  it 
was  called,  the  "dog-day" — vacation  in  or  near 
Dresden,  but  I  also  took  pleasant  pedestrian  tours 
in  Bohemia,  and  after  my  promotion  to  the  senior 
class,  through  the  Black  Forest. 

It  was  a  delightful  excursion  !  Yet  1  can  never 
recall  it  without  a  tinge  of  sadness,  for  my  two 
companions,  a  talented  young  artist  named  Ro- 
thermund,  and  a  law  student  called  Forster,  both 
died  young.  We  had  met  in  a  railway  carriage 
between  Frankfort  and  Heidelberg  and  determined 
to  take  the  tour  together,  and  never  did  the  Black 
Forest,  with  its  mountains  and  valleys,  dark  forests 
and  green  meadows,  clear  streams  and  pleasant 
villages,  seem  to  me  more  beautiful.  But  still 
fairer  days  were  in  store  after  parting  from  my 
friends. 

I  went  to  Rippoldsau,  where  a  beloved  niece 
of  my  mother  with  her  charming  daughter  Betsy 
expected  me.  Here  in  the  excellent  Gohring  hotel 
I  found  a  delightful  party,  which  only  lacked 
young  gentlemen.  My  arrival  added  a  pair  of  feet 
which  never  tired  of  dancing,  and  every  evening 
our  elders  were  obliged  to  entreat  and  command 
in  order  to  put  an  end  to  our  sport.  The  morn- 
ings were  occupied  in  walks  through  the  superb 
18 


264  ™E   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

forests  around  Rippoldsau,  and  the  afternoons  in 
bowling,  playing  graces,  and  running  races.  I 
speedily  lost  my  susceptible  heart  to  a  charming 
young  lady  named  Leontine,  who  permitted  me  to 
be  her  knight,  and  I  fancied  myself  very  unjustly 
treated  when,  soon  after  our  separation,  I  received 
her  betrothal  cards. 

The  Easter  and  Christmas  vacations  I  usually 
spent  in  Berlin  with  my  mother,  where  I  was  al- 
lowed to  attend  entertainments  given  by  our 
friends,  at  which  I  met  many  distinguished  per- 
sons, among  others  Alexander  von  Humboldt. 

Of  political  life  in  the  capital  at  that  time  there 
is  nothing  agreeable  to  be  said.  I  was  always  re- 
minded of  the  state  of  affairs  immediately  after 
my  arrival  ;  for  during  the  first  years  of  my  school 
life  at  Kottbus  no  one  was  permitted  to  enter  the 
city  without  a  paper  proving  identity,  which  was 
demanded  by  constables  at  the  exits  of  railway 
stations  or  in  the  yards  of  post-houses.  Once,  when 
I  had  nothing  to  show  except  my  report,  I  was  ad- 
mitted, it  is  true,  but  a  policeman  was  sent  with 
me  to  my  mother's  house  to  ascertain  that  the  boy 
of  seventeen  was  really  the  person  he  assumed  to 
be,  and  not  a  criminal  dangerous  to  the  state. 

The  beautiful  aspirations  of  the  Reichstag  in 
Paulskirche  were  baffled,  the  constitution  of  the 
empire  had  become  a  noble  historical  monument 
which  only  a  chosen  few  still  remembered.  The 


THE   TIME   OF   EFFERVESCENCE.  265 

king,  who  had  had  the  opportunity  to  place  him- 
self at  the  head  of  united  Germany,  had  preferred 
to  suppress  the  freedom  of  his  native  land  rather 
than  to  promote  its  unity.  Yet  we  need  not  lament 
his  refusal.  Blood  shed  together  in  mutual  en- 
thusiasm is  a  better  cement  than  the  decree  of  any 
Parliament. 

The  ruling  powers  at  that  time  saw  in  the 
constitution  only  a  cage  whose  bars  prevented 
them  from  dealing  a  decisive  blow,  but  whatever 
they  could  reach  through  the  openings  they  tore 
and  injured  as  far  as  lay  in  their  power.  The 
words  "  reactionary  "  and  "  liberal  "  had  become 
catch  terms  which  severed  families  and  divided 
friends. 

At  Komptendorf,  and  almost  everywhere  in  the 
country,  there  was  scarcely  any  one  except  Con- 
servatives. Herr  von  Berndt  had  driven  into  the 
city  to  the  election.  Pastor  Albin,  the  clergyman 
of  his  village,  voted  for  the  Liberal  candidate. 
When  the  pastor  asked  the  former,  who  was  just 
getting  into  his  carriage,  to  take  him  home,  the 
usually  courteous,  obliging  gentleman,  who  was 
driving,  exclaimed,  "  If  you  don't  vote  with  me 
you  don't  ride  with  me,"  and,  touching  the  spirited 
bays,  dashed  off,  leaving  the  pastor  behind. 

Dr.  Boltze  was  a  "  Liberal,"  and  had  to  endure 
many  a  rebuff  because  his  views  were  known  to  the 
ministry.  Our  religious  instruction  might  serve 


266  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

as  a  mirror  of  the  opinions  which  were  pleasing  to 
the  minister.  It  had  made  the  man  who  imparted 
it  superintendent  when  comparatively  young.  The 
term  "  mob  marriage  "  for  "  civil  marriage  "  origi- 
nated with  him,  and  it  ought  certainly  to  be  in- 
scribed in  the  Golden  Book  above. 

He  was  a  fiery  zealot,  who  sought  to  induce  us 
to  share  his  wrath  and  scorn  when  he  condemned 
Bauer,  David  Strauss,  and  Lessing. 

When  discussing  the  facts  of  ecclesiastical  his- 
tory, he  understood  how  to  rouse  us  to  the  utmost, 
for  he  was  a  talented  man  and  a  clever  speaker, 
but  no  word  of  appeal  to  the  heart,  no  exhortation 
to  love  and  peace,  ever  crossed  his  lips. 

The  vacations  were  the  only  time  which  I  spent 
with  my  mother.  I  ceased  to  think  of  her  in  ev- 
erything I  did,  as  was  the  case  in  Keilhau.  But 
after  I  had  been  with  her  for  a  while,  the  charm  of 
her  personality  again  mastered  my  soul,  her  love 
rekindled  mine,  and  I  longed  to  open  my  whole 
heart  to  her  and  tell  her  everything  which  inter- 
ested me.  She  was  the  only  person  to  whom  I  read 
my  Poem  of  the  World,  as  far  as  it  was  completed. 

She  listened  with  joyful  astonishment,  and 
praised  several  passages  which  she  thought  beau- 
tiful. Then  she  warned  me  not  to  devote  too 
much  time  to  such  things  at  present,  but  kissed 
and  petted  me  in  a  way  too  charming  to  describe. 
During  the  next  few  days  her  eyes  rested  on  me 


A   ROMANCE   WHICH    REALLY    HAPPENED.  267 

with  an  expression  I  had  always  longed  to  see.  I 
felt  that  she  regarded  me  as  a  man,  and  she  after- 
wards confessed  how  great  her  hopes  were  at  that 
time,  especially  as  Professor  Tzschirner  had  en- 
couraged her  to  cherish  them. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

A    ROMANCE    WHICH    REALLY    HAPPENED. 

AFTER  returning  to  Kottbus  from  the  Christmas 
vacation  I  plunged  headlong  into  work,  and  as  I 
exerted  all  my  powers  I  made  rapid  progress. 

Thus  January  passed  away,  and  I  was  so  indus- 
trious that  I  often  studied  until  long  after  mid- 
night. I  had  not  even  gone  to  the  theatre,  though 
I  had  heard  that  the  Von  Hoxar  Company  was  un- 
usually good.  The  leading  lady,  especially,  was 
described  as  a  miracle  of  beauty  and  remarkably 
talented.  This  excited  my  curiosity,  and  when  a 
school-mate  who  had  made  the  stage  manager's 
acquaintance  told  us  that  he  would  be  glad  to  have 
us  appear  at  the  next  performance  of  The  Rob- 
bers, I  of  course  promised  to  be  present. 

We  went  through  our  parts  admirably,  and  no 
one  in  the  crowded  house  suspected  the  identity 
of  the  chorus  of  robbers  who  sang  with  so  much 
freshness  and  vivacity. 


268  THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE. 

I  was  deeply  interested  in  what  was  passing  on 
the  stage,  and,  concealed  at  the  wings,  I  witnessed 
the  greater  part  of  the  play. 

Rarely  has  so  charming  an  Amalie  adorned  the 
boards  as  the  eighteen-year-old  actress,  who,  an 
actor's  child,  had  already  been  several  years  on 
the  stage. 

The  consequence  of  this  visit  to  the  theatre  was 
that,  instead  of  studying  historical  dates,  as  I  had 
intended,  I  took  out  Panthea  and  Abradatus,  and 
on  that  night  and  every  succeeding  one,  as  soon  as 
I  had  finished  my  work  for  the  manager,  I  added 
new  five-foot  iambics  to  the  tragedy,  whose  mate- 
rial I  drew  from  Xenophon. 

Whenever  the  company  played  I  went  to  the 
theatre,  where  I  saw  the  charming  Clara  in  comedy 
parts,  and  found  that  all  the  praises  I  had  heard  of 
her  fell  short  of  the  truth.  Yet  I  did  not  seek  her 
acquaintance.  The  examination  was  close  at  hand, 
and  it  scarcely  entered  my  mind  to  approach  the 
actress.  But  the  Fates  had  undertaken  to  act  as 
mediators  and  make  me  the  hero  of  a  romance 
which  ended  so  speedily,  and  in  a  manner  which, 
though  disagreeable,  was  so  far  from  tragical,  that 
if  I  desired  to  weave  the  story  of  my  own  life  into 
a  novel  I  should  be  ashamed  to  use  the  extensive 
apparatus  employed  by  Destiny. 

Rather  more  than  a  week  had  passed  since  the 
last  performance  of  The  Robbers,  when  one  day, 


A   ROMANCE   WHICH    REALLY    HAPPENED.  269 

late  in  the  afternoon,  the  streets  were  filled  with 
uproar.  A  fire  had  broken  out,  and  as  soon  as 
Professor  Braune's  lesson  was  over  I  joined  the 
human  flood.  The  boiler  in  the  Kubisch  cloth  fac- 
tory had  burst,  a  part  of  the  huge  building  near  it 
was  in  flames,  and  a  large  portion  of  the  walls  had 
fallen. 

When,  with  several  school-mates,  I  reached  the 
scene  of  the  disaster,  the  fire  had  already  been 
mastered,  but  many  hands  were  striving  to  remove 
the  rubbish  and  save  the  workmen  buried  under- 
neath. I  eagerly  lent  my  aid. 

Meanwhile  it  had  grown  dark,  and  we  were 
obliged  to  work  by  the  light  of  lanterns.  Several 
men,  fortunately  all  living,  had  been  brought  out, 
and  we  thought  that  the  task  of  rescue  was  com- 
pleted, when  the  rumour  spread  that  some  girls 
employed  in  one  of  the  lower  rooms  were  still 
missing. 

It  was  necessary  to  enter,  but  the  smoke  and 
dust  which  filled  the  air  seemed  to  preclude  this, 
and,  besides,  a  high  wall  above  the  cleared  space  in 
the  building  threatened  to  Call.  An  architect  who 
had  directed  with  great  skill  the  removal  of  the 
debris  was  standing  close  beside  me  and  gave  or- 
ders to  tear  down  the  wall,  whose  fall  would  cost 
more  lives. 

Just  at  that  moment  I  distinctly  heard  an  in- 
expressibly mournful  cry  of  pain.  A  narrow- 


270 


THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE. 


shouldered,  sickly-looking  man,  who  spite  of  his 
very  plain  clothing,  seemed  to  belong  to  the  better 
classes,  heard  it  too,  and  the  word  "Horrible!"  in 
tones  of  the  warmest  sympathy  escaped  his  lips. 
Then  he  bent  over  the  black  smoking  space,  and  I 
did  the  same. 

The  cry  was  repeated  still  louder  than  before, 
my  neighbour  and  I  looked  at  each  other,  and  I 
heard  him  whisper,  "  Shall  we  ?  " 

In  an  instant  I  had  flung  off  my  coat,  put  my 
handkerchief  over  my  mouth,  and  let  myself  down 
into  the  smoking  pit,  where  I  pressed  forward 
through  a  stifling  mixture  of  lime  and  particles  of 
sand. 

The  groans  and  cries  of  the  wounded  guided 
me  and  my  companion,  who  had  instantly  followed, 
and  at  last  two  female  figures  appeared  amid  the 
smoke  and  dust  on  which  the  lanterns,  held  above, 
cast  flickering  rays  of  light. 

One  was  lying  prostrate,  the  other,  kneeling, 
leaned  against  the  wall.  We  seized  the  first  one, 
and  staggered  towards  the  spot  where  the  lanterns 
glimmered,  and  loud  shouts  greeted  us. 

Our  example  had  induced  others  to  leap  down 
too. 

As  soon  as  we  were  released  from  our  burden 
we  returned  for  the  second  victim.  My  companion 
now  carried  a  lantern.  The  woman  was  no  longer 
kneeling,  but  lay  face  downward  several  paces 


A   ROMANCE   WHICH    REALLY    HAPPENED. 


271 


nearer  to  the  narrow  passage  choked  with  stones 
and  lime  dust  which  separated  her  from  us.  She 
had  fainted  while  trying  to  follow.  I  seized  her 
feet,  and  we  staggered  on,  but  ere  we  could  leave 
the  passage  which  led  into  the  larger  room  I  heard 
a  loud  rattling  and  thundering  above,  and  the  next 
instant  something  struck  my  head  and  everything 
reeled  around  me.  Yet  I  did  not  drop  the  blue 
yarn  stockings,  but  tottered  on  with  them  into  the 
large  open  space,  where  I  fell  on  my  knees. 

Still  I  must  have  retained  my  consciousness, 
for  loud  shouts  and  cries  reached  my  ears.  Then 
came  a  moment  with  which  few  in  life  can  com- 
pare— the  one  when  I  again  inhaled  draughts  of 
the  pure  air  of  heaven. 

I  now  felt  that  my  hair  was  stained  with  blood, 
which  had  flowed  from  a  wound  in  my  head,  but  I 
had  no  time  to  think  of  it,  for  people  crowded 
around  me  saying  all  sorts  of  pleasant  things. 
The  architect,  Winzer,  was  most  cordial  of  all. 
His  words,  "  I  approve  of  such  foolhardiness, 
Herr  Ebers,"  echoed  in  my  ears  long  afterwards. 

A  beam  had  fallen  on  my  head,  but  my  thick 
hair  had  broken  the  force  of  the  blow,  and  the 
wound  in  a  few  days  began  to  heal. 

My  companion  in  peril  was  at  my  side,  and  as 
my  blood-stained  face  looked  as  if  my  injuries  were 
serious  he  invited  me  to  his  house,  which  was  close 
by  the  scene  of  the  accident.  On  the  way  we  in- 


272  THE   STORY   OF   MY    LIFE. 

troduced  ourselves  to  each  other.  His  name  was 
Hering,  and  he  was  the  prompter  at  the  theatre. 

When  the  doctor  who  had  been  sent  to  me  had 
finished  his  task  of  sewing  up  the  wound  and  left 
us,  an  elderly  woman  entered,  whose  rank  in  life 
was  somewhat  difficult  to  determine.  She  wore 
gay  flowers  in  her  bonnet,  and  a  cloak  made  of  silk 
and  velvet,  but  her  yellow  face  was  scarcely  that 
of  a  "  lady."  She  came  to  get  a  part  for  her 
daughter;  it  was  one  of  the  prompter's  duties  to 
copy  the  parts  for  the  various  actors. 

But  who  was  this  daughter  ? 

Fraulein  Clara,  the  fair  Amalie  of  The  Robbers, 
the  lovely  leading  lady  of  the  theatre. 

My  daughter  has  an  autograph  of  Andersen 
containing  the  words,  "  Life  is  the  fairest  fairy 
tale." 

Ay,  our  lives  are  often  like  fairy  tales. 

The  Scheherezade  "  Fate  "  had  found  the  bridge 
to  lead  the  student  to  the  actress,  and  the  means 
employed  were  of  no  less  magnitude  than  a  con- 
flagration, the  rescue  of  a  life,  and  a  wound,  as 
well  as  the  somewhat  improbable  combined  action 
of  a  student  and  a  prompter.  True,  more  simple 
methods  would  scarcely  have  brought  the  youth 
with  the  examination  in  his  head  and  a  pretty  girl 
in  his  heart  to  seek  the  acquaintanceship  of  the 
fair  actress. 

Fate  urged  me  swiftly  on  ;  for  Clara's  mother 


A    ROMANCE    WHICH    REALLY    HAPPENED. 


2/3 


was  an  enthusiastic  woman,  who  in  her  youth  had 
herself  been  an  ornament  of  the  stage,  and  I  can 
still  hear  her  exclamation,  "  My  dear  young  sir, 
every  German  girl  ought  to  kiss  that  wound !  "  I 
can  see  her  indignantly  forbid  the  prompter  to  tie 
his  gay  handkerchief  over  the  injury  and  draw  a 
clean  one  from  her  own  velvet  bag  to  bind  my 
forehead.  Boltze  and  my  school-mates  greeted  me 
very  warmly.  Director  Tzschirner  said  something 
very  similar  to  Herr  Winzer's  remark. 

And  so  matters  would  have  remained,  and  in  a 
few  weeks,  after  passing  the  examination,  I  should 
have  returned  to  my  happy  mother,  had  not  a 
perverse  Fate  willed  otherwise. 

This  time  a  bit  of  linen  was  the  instrument 
used  to  lead  me  into  the  path  allotted,  for  when 
the  wound  healed  and  the  handkerchief  which 
Clara's  mother  had  tied  round  it  came  back  from 
the  wash,  I  was  uncertain  whether  to  return  it  in 
person  or  send  it  by  a  messenger  with  a  few  words 
of  thanks.  I  determined  on  the  latter  course  ;  but 
when,  that  same  evening,  I  saw  Clara  looking  so 
pretty  as  the  youthful  Richelieu,  I  cast  aside  my 
first  resolve,  and  the  next  day  at  dusk  went  to  call 
on  the  mother  of  the  charming  actress.  I  should 
scarcely  have  ventured  to  do  so  in  broad  daylight, 
for  Herr  Ebeling,  our  zealous  religious  instructor, 
lived  directly  opposite. 

The  danger,  however,  merely  gave  the  venture 


274 


THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 


an  added  zest  and,  ere  I  was  aware  of  it  I  was 
standing  in  the  large  and  pretty  sitting-room  occu- 
pied by  the  mother  and  daughter. 

It  was  a  disappointment  not  to  meet  the  latter, 
yet  I  felt  a  certain  sense  of  relief.  Fate  intended 
to  let  me  escape  the  storm  uninjured,  for  my  heart 
had  been  by  no  means  calm  since  I  mounted  the 
narrow  stairs  leading  to  the  apartments  of  the  fair 
actress.  But  just  as  I  was  taking  leave  the  pave- 
ment echoed  with  the  noise  of  hoofs  and  the  rattle 
of  wheels.  Prince  Piickler's  coupe"  stopped  in 
front  of  the  house  and  the  young  girl  descended 
the  steps. 

She  entered  the  room  laughing  merrily,  but 
when  she  saw  me  she  became  graver,  and  looked  at 
her  mother  in  surprise. 

A  brief  explanation,  the  cry,  "  Oh,  you  are  the 
man  who  was  hurt !  "  and  then  the  proof  that  the 
room  did  not  owe  its  neat  appearance  to  her,  for 
her  cloak  flew  one  way,  her  hat  another,  and  her 
gloves  a  third.  After  this  disrobing  she  stood  be- 
fore me  in  the  costume  of  the  youthful  Richelieu, 
so  bewitchingly  charming,  so  gay  and  bright,  that 
I  could  not  restrain  my  delight. 

She  had  come  from  old  Prince  Piickler,  who,  as 
he  never  visited  the  theatre  in  the  city,  wished  to 
see  her  in  the  costume  whose  beauty  had  been  so 
much  praised.  The  vigorous,  gay  old  gentleman 
had  charmed  her,  and  she  declared  that  she  liked 


A   ROMANCE   WHICH    REALLY    HAPPENED. 


275 


him  far  better  than  any  of  the  young  men.  But 
as  she  knew  little  of  his  former  life  and  works,  I 
told  her  of  his  foolish  pranks  and  chivalrous  deeds. 

It  seemed  as  if  her  presence  increased  my 
powers  of  description,  and  when  I  at  last  took 
leave  she  exclaimed  :  "  You'll  come  again,  won't 
you  ?  After  one  has  finished  one's  part,  it's  the 
best  time  to  talk." 

Did  I  wait  to  be  asked  a  second  time  ?  Oh, 
no!  Even  had  I  not  been  the  "foolhardy  Ebers," 
I  should  have  accepted  her  invitation.  The  very 
next  evening  I  was  in  the  pleasant  sitting-room, 
and  whenever  I  could  slip  away  after  supper  I 
went  to  the  girl,  whom  I  loved  more  and  more  ar- 
dently. Sometimes  I  repeated  poems  of  my  own, 
sometimes  she  recited  and  acted  passages  from  her 
best  parts,  amid  continual  jesting  and  laughter. 
My  visits  seemed  like  so  many  delightful  festivals, 
and  Clara's  mother  took  care  that  they  were  not  so 
long  as  to  weary  her  treasure.  She  often  fell 
asleep  while  we  were  reading  and  talking,  but 
usually  she  sent  me  away  before  midnight  with 
"There's  another  day  coming  to-morrow."  Long 
before  my  first  visit  to  the  young  actress  I  had 
arranged  a  way  of  getting  into  the  house  at  any 
time,  and  Dr.  Boltze  had  no  suspicion  of  my  ex- 
peditions, since  on  my  return  I  strove  the  more 
zealously  to  fulfil  all  my  school  duties. 

This  sounds  scarcely  credible,  yet  it  is  strictly 


276  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

true,  for  from  a  child  up  to  the  present  time  I  have 
always  succeeded,  spite  of  interruptions  of  every 
kind,  in  devoting  myself  to  the  occupation  in 
which  I  was  engaged.  Loud  noises  in  an  adjoin- 
ing room,  or  even  tolerably  severe  physical  pain, 
will  not  prevent  my  working  on  as  soon  as  the 
subject  so  masters  me  as  to  throw  the  external 
world  and  my  own  body  into  the  background. 
Only  when  the  suffering  becomes  very  intense, 
the  whole  being  must  of  necessity  yield  to  it. 

During  the  hours  of  the  night  which  followed 
these  evening  visits  I  often  succeeded  in  working 
earnestly  for  two  or  three  hours  in  preparation  for 
the  examination.  During  my  recitations,  however, 
weariness  asserted  itself,  and  even  more  strongly 
the  new  feeling  which  had  obtained  complete  mas- 
tery over  me.  Here  I  could  not  shake  off  the  de- 
lightful memories  of  these  evenings  because  I  did 
not  strive  to  battle  with  them. 

I  am  not  without  talent  for  drawing,  and  even 
at  that  time  it  was  an  easy  matter  to  reproduce 
anything  which  had  caught  my  eye,  not  only  dis- 
tinctly, but  sometimes  attractively  and  with  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  fidelity  to  nature.  So  my  note-book 
was  filled  with  figures  which  amazed  me  when  I 
saw  them  afterwards,  for  my  excited  imagination 
had  filled  page  after  page  with  a  perfect  Witch's 
Sabbath  of  compositions,  in  which  the  oddest 
scrolls  and  throngs  of  genii  blended  with  flowers, 


A   ROMANCE    WHICH    REALLY    HAPPENED. 


277 


buds,  and  all  sorts  of  emblems  of  love  twined 
around  initial  letters  or  the  picture  of  the  person 
who  had  captured  my  heart  at  a  time  so  inoppor- 
tune. 

I  owe  the  suggestion  of  some  verses  which  were 
written  at  that  time  to  the  memory  of  a  dream.  I 
was  on  the  back  of  a  swan,  which  bore  me  through 
the  air,  and  on  another  swan  flying  at  my  side  sat 
Clara.  Our  hands  were  clasped.  It  was  delight- 
ful until  I  bent  to  kiss  her  ;  then  the  swan  I  rode 
melted  into  mist,  and  I  plunged  headlong  down,  fall- 
ing, falling,  until  I  woke. 

I  had  this  dream  on  the  Friday  before  the  be- 
ginning of  the  week  in  which  the  first  examination 
was  to  take  place  ;  and  it  is  worthy  of  mention, 
for  it  was  fulfilled. 

True,  I  needed  no  prophetic  vision  to  inform  me 
that  this  time  of  happiness  was  drawing  to  a  close. 
I  had  long  known  that  the  company  was  to  remove 
from  Kottbus  to  Guben,  but  I  hoped  that  the  sepa- 
ration would  be  followed  by  a  speedy  meeting. 

It  was  certainly  fortunate  that  she  was  going, 
yet  the  parting  was  hard  to  bear  ;  for  the  evening 
hours  I  had  spent  with  her  in  innocent  mirth  and 
the  interchange  of  all  that  was  best  in  our  hearts 
and  minds  were  filled  with  exquisite  enjoyment. 
The  fact  that  our  intercourse  was  in  a  certain  sense 
forbidden  fruit  merely  doubled  its  charm. 

How  cautiously  I  had  glided  along  in  the  shad- 


278 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 


ows  of  the  houses,  how  anxiously  I  had  watched 
the  light  in  the  minister's  study  opposite,  when  I 
went  home ! 

True,  he  would  have  seen  nothing  wrong  or  even 
unseemly,  save  perhaps  the  kiss  which  Clara  gave 
me  the  last  time  she  lighted  me  down  stairs,  yet 
that  would  have  been  enough  to  shut  me  out  of  the 
examination.  Ah !  yes,  it  was  fortunate  that  she 
was  going. 

March  had  come,  the  sun  shone  brightly,  the  air 
was  as  warm  as  in  May,  and  I  had  carried  the  mother 
and  daughter  some  violets  which  I  had  gathered  my- 
self. Suddenly  I  thought  how  delightful  it  would 
be  to  drive  with  Clara  in  an  open  carriage  through 
the  spring  beauty  of  the  country.  The  next  day 
was  Sunday.  If  I  went  with  them  and  spent  the 
night  in  Guben  I  could  reach  home  in  time  the  next 
day.  I  need  only  tell  Dr.  Boltze  I  was  going  to 
Komptendorf,  and  order  the  carriage,  to  transform 
the  dear  girl's  departure  into  a  holiday. 

Again  Fate  interfered  with  the  course  of  this 
story  ;  for  on  my  way  to  school  that  sunny  Satur- 
day morning  I  met  Clara's  mother,  and  at  sight  of 
her  the  wish  merged  into  a  resolve.  I  followed  her 
into  the  shop  she  entered  and  explained  my  plan. 
She  thought  it  would  be  delightful,  and  promised 
to  wait  for  me  at  a  certain  place  outside  of  the  city. 

The  plan  was  carried  out.  I  found  them  at  the 
appointed  spot,  my  darling  as  fresh  as  a  rose.  If 


A   ROMANCE   WHICH    REALLY    HAPPENED. 


279 


love  and  joy  had  any  substantial  weight,  the  horses 
would  have  found  it  a  hard  matter  to  drag  the  ve- 
hicle swiftly  on. 

But  at  the  first  toll-house,  while  the  toll-keeper 
was  changing  some  money,  I  experienced  the  envy 
of  the  gods  which  hitherto  I  had  known  only  in 
Schiller's  ballad.  A  pedestrian  passed — the  teacher 
whom  I  had  offended  by  playing  all  sorts  of  pranks 
during  his  French  lesson.  Not  one  of  the  others 
disliked  me. 

He  spoke  to  me,  but  I  pretended  not  to  under- 
stand, hastily  took  the  change  from  the  toll-keeper, 
and,  raising  my  hat,  shouted,  "  Drive  on  !  " 

This  highly  virtuous  gentleman  scorned  the 
young  actress,  and  as,  on  account  of  my  companions, 
he  had  not  returned  my  greeting,  Clara  flashed  into 
comical  wrath,  which  stifled  in  its  germ  my  thought 
of  leaving  the  carriage  and  going  on  foot  to  Komp- 
tendorf,  where  Dr.  Boltze  believed  me  to  be. 

Clara  rewarded  my  courageous  persistence  by 
special  gaiety,  and  when  we  had  reached  Guben, 
taken  supper  with  some  other  members  of  the  com- 
pany, and  spent  the  evening  in  merriment,  danger 
and  all  the  ills  which  the  future  might  bring  were 
forgotten. 

The  next  morning  I  breakfasted  with  Clara  and 
her  mother,  and  in  bidding  them  good-bye  added 
"  Till  we  meet  again,"  for  the  way  to  Berlin  was 
through  Guben,  where  the  railroad  began. 


28O  THE   STORY   OF   MY    LIFE. 

The  carriage  which  had  brought  us  there  took 
me  back  to  Kottbus.  Several  members  of  the  com- 
pany entered  it  and  went  part  of  the  way,  return- 
ing on  foot.  When  they  left  me  twilight  was  gath- 
ering, but  the  happiness  I  had  just  enjoyed  shone 
radiantly  around  me,  and  I  lived  over  for  the  sec- 
ond time  all  the  delights  I  had  experienced. 

But  the  nearer  I  approached  Kottbus  the  more 
frequently  arose  the  fear  that  the  French  teacher 
might  make  our  meeting  the  cause  of  an  accusa- 
tion. He  had  already  complained  of  me  for  very 
trivial  delinquencies  and  would  hardly  let  this  pass. 

And  yet  he  might. 

Was  it  a  crime  to  drive  with  a  young  girl  of 
stainless  reputation  under  her  mother's  oversight  ? 

No.  I  had  done  nothing  wrong,  except  to  say 
that  I  was  going  to  Komptendorf — and  that  of- 
fence concerned  only  Dr.  Boltze,  to  whom  I  had 
made  the  false  statement. 

At  last  I  fell  asleep,  until  the  wheels  rattled  on 
the  pavement  of  the  city  streets.  Was  my  dream 
concerning  the  swan  to  be  fulfilled  ? 

I  entered  the  house  early.  Dr.  Boltze  was  wait- 
ing for  me,  and  his  wife's  troubled  face  betrayed 
what  had  happened  even  more  plainly  than  her  hus- 
band's frown. 

The  French  teacher  had  instantly  informed  my 
tutor  where  and  with  whom  he  had  met  me,  and 
urged  him  to  ascertain  whether  I  had  really  gone 


A   ROMANCE  WHICH   REALLY   HAPPENED.  28l 

to  Komptendorf.  Then  he  went  to  Clara's  former 
residence,  questioned  the  landlady  and  her  servant, 
and  finally  interrogated  the  livery-stable  keeper. 

The  mass  of  evidence  thus  gathered  proved 
that  I  had  paid  the  actress  numerous  visits,  and 
always  at  dusk.  My  dream  seemed  fulfilled,  but 
after  I  had  told  Dr.  Boltze  and  his  wife  the  whole 
truth  a  quiet  talk  followed.  The  former  did  not 
give  up  the  cause  as  lost,  though  he  did  not  spare 
reproaches,  while  his  wife's  wrath  was  directed 
against  the  informer  rather  than  the  offence  com- 
mitted by  her  favourite. 

After  a  restless  night  I  went  to  Professor 
Tzschirner  and  told  him  everything,  without  pallia- 
tion or  concealment.  He  censured  my  frivolity 
and  lack  of  consideration  for  my  position  in  life, 
but  every  word,  every  feature  of  his  expressive 
face  showed  that  he  grieved  for  what  had  hap- 
pened, and  would  have  gladly  punished  it  leniently. 
In  after  years  he  told  me  so.  Promising  to  make 
every  effort  to  save  me  from  exclusion  from  the 
examination  in  the  conference  which  he  was  to  call 
at  the  close  of  the  afternoon  session,  he  dismissed 
me — and  he  kept  his  word. 

I  know  this,  for  I  succeeded  in  hearing  the  dis- 
cussion. The  porter  of  the  gymnasium  was  the 
father  of  the  boy  whom  my  friend  Lobenstein  and 
I  kept  to  clean  our  boots,  etc.  He  was  a  con- 
scientious, incorruptible  man,  but  the  peculiar  cir- 


282  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

cumstances  of  the  case  led  him  to  yield  to  my  en- 
treaties and  admit  me  to  a  room  next  to  the  one 
where  the  conference  was  held.  I  am  grateful  to 
him  still,  for  it  is  due  to  this  kindness  that  I  can 
think  without  resentment  of  those  whose  severity 
robbed  me  of  six  months  of  my  life. 

This  conference  taught  me  how  warm  a  friend 
I  possessed  in  Professor  Tzschirner,  and  showed 
that  Professor  Braune  was  kindly  disposed.  I  re- 
member how  my  heart  overflowed  with  gratitude 
when  Professor  Tzschirner  sketched  my  character, 
extolled  my  rescue  of  life  at  the  Kubisch  factory, 
and  eloquently  urged  them  to  remember  their  own 
youth  and  judge  what  had  happened  impartially. 
I  should  have  belied  my  nature  had  I  not  availed 
myself  of  the  chain  of  circumstances  which  brought 
me  into  association  with  the  actress  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  so  charming  a  creature. 

To  my  joyful  surprise  Herr  Ebeling  agreed 
with  him,  and  spoke  so  pleasantly  of  me  and  of 
Clara,  concerning  whom  he  had  inquired,  that  I 
began  to  hope  he  was  on  my  side. 

Unfortunately,  the  end  of  his  speech  destroyed 
all  the  prospects  held  out  in  the  beginning. 

Space  forbids  further  description  of  the  discus- 
sion. The  majority,  spite  of  the  passionate  hostil- 
ity of  the  informer,  voted  not  to  expel  me,  but  to 
exclude  me  from  the  examination  this  time,  and 
advise  me  to  leave  the  school.  If,  however,  I 


A   ROMANCE   WHICH    REALLY    HAPPENED,   283 

preferred  to  remain,  I  should  be  permitted  to 
do  so. 

At  the  close  of  the  session  I  was  standing  in 
the  square  in  front  of  the  school  when  Professor 
Tzschirner  approached,  and  I  asked  his  permission 
to  leave  school  that  very  day.  A  smile  of  satis- 
faction flitted  over  his  manly,  intellectual  face,  and 
he  granted  my  request  at  once. 

So  my  Kottbus  school-days  ended,  and,  unfor- 
tunately, in  a  way  unlike  what  I  had  hoped. 

When  I  said  farewell  to  Professor  Tzschirner 
and  his  wife  I  could  not  restrain  my  tears.  His 
eyes,  too,  were  dim,  and  he  repeated  to  me  what  I 
had  already  heard  him  say  in  the  conference,  and 
wrote  the  same  thing  to  my  mother  in  a  letter  ex- 
plaining my  departure  from  the  school.  The  report 
which  he  sent  with  it  contains  not  a  single  word  to 
indicate  a  compulsory  withdrawal  or  the  advice  to 
leave  it. 

When  I  had  stopped  at  Guben  and  said  good- 
bye to  Clara  my  dream  was  literally  fulfilled.  Our 
delightful  intercourse  had  come  to  a  sudden  end. 
Fortunately,  I  was  the  only  sufferer,  for  to  my 
great  joy  I  heard  a  few  months  after  that  she  had 
made  a  successful  debut  at  the  Dresden  court 
theatre. 

I  was,  of  course,  less  joyfully  received  in  Berlin 
than  usual,  but  the  letters  from  Professor  Tzschir- 
ner and  Frau  Boltze  put  what  had  occurred  in  the 


284  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

right  light  to  my  mother — nay,  when  she  saw  how 
I  grieved  over  my  separation  from  the  young  girl 
whose  charms  still  filled  my  heart  and  mind,  her 
displeasure  was  transformed  into  compassion.  She 
also  saw  how  difficult  it  was  for  me  to  meet  the 
friends  and  guardian  who  had  expected  me  to  re- 
turn as  a  graduate,  and  drew  her  darling,  whom 
for  the  first  time  she  called  her  "  poor  boy,"  still 
closer  to  her  heart. 

Then  we  consulted  about  the  future,  and  it  was 
decided  that  I  should  graduate  from  the  gymna- 
sium of  beautiful  Quedlinburg.  Professor  Schmidt's 
house  was  warmly  recommended,  and  was  chosen 
for  my  home. 

I  set  out  for  my  new  abode  full  of  the  best 
resolutions.  But  at  Magdeburg  I  saw  in  a  show 
window  a  particularly  tasteful  bonnet  trimmed 
with  lilies  of  the  valley  and  moss-rose  buds.  The 
sight  brought  Clara's  face  framed  in  it  vividly  be- 
fore my  eyes,  and  drew  me  into  the  shop.  It  was 
a  Paris  pattern-hat  and  very  expensive,  but  I  spent 
the  larger  part  of  my  pocket-money  in  purchasing 
it  and  ordered  it  to  be  sent  to  the  girl  whose  image 
still  filled  my  whole  soul.  Hitherto  I  had  given 
her  nothing  except  a  small  locket  and  a  great  many 
flowers. 


AT    THE   QUEDLINBURG   GYMNASIUM.     285 
CHAPTER   XX. 

AT    THE    QUEDLINBURG    GYMNASIUM. 

THE  atmosphere  of  Quedlinburg  was  far  differ- 
ent from  that  of  the  Mark  factory  town  of  Kott- 
bus.  How  fresh,  how  healthful,  how  stimulating 
to  industry  and  out-door  exercise  it  was ! 

Everything  in  the  senior  class  was  just  as  it 
should  be. 

In  Kottbus  the  pupils  addressed  each  other 
formally.  There  were  at  the  utmost,  I  think,  not 
more  than  half  a  dozen  with  whom  I  was  on  terms 
of  intimacy.  In  Quedlinburg  a  beautiful  relation 
of  comradeship  united  all  the  members  of  the 
school.  During  study  hours  we  were  serious,  but 
in  the  intervals  we  were  merry  enough. 

Its  head,  Professor  Richter,  the  learned  editor 
of  the  fragments  of  Sappho,  did  not  equal  Tzschir- 
ner  in  keenness  of  intellect  and  bewitching  powers 
of  description,  yet  we  gladly  followed  the  worthy 
man's  interpretations. 

Many  a  leisure  day  and  hour  we  spent  in  the 
beautiful  Hartz  Mountains.  But,  best  of  all,  was 
my  home  in  Quedlinburg,  the  house  of  my  tutor, 
Professor  Adalbert  Schmidt,  an  admirable  man  of 
forty,  who  seemed  extremely  gentle  and  yielding, 
but  when  necessary  could  be  very  peremptory,  and 


286  THE    STORY    OF    MY    LIFE. 

allowed  those  under  his  charge  to  make  no  tres- 
pass on  his  authority. 

His  wife  was  a  model  of  amiable,  almost  timid 
womanliness.  Her  sister-in-law,  the  widow  of  a 
magistrate,  Frau  Pauline  Schmidt,  shared  the  care 
of  the  pupils  and  the  beautiful,  large  garden  ;  while 
her  pretty,  bright  young  sons  and  daughters  in- 
creased the  charm  of  the  intercourse. 

How  pleasant  were  the  evenings  we  spent  in 
the  family  circle  !  We  read,  talked,  played,  and 
Frau  Pauline  Schmidt  was  a  ready  listener  when- 
ever I  felt  disposed  to  communicate  to  any  one 
what  I  had  written. 

Among  my  school  friends  were  some  who  lis- 
tened to  my  writings  and  showed  me  their  own 
essays.  My  favorite  was  Carl  Hey,  grandson  of 
Wilhelm  Hey,  who  understood  child  nature  so  well, 
and  wrote  the  pretty  verses  accompanying  the 
illustrations  in  the  Speckter  Fables,  named  for  the 
artist,  a  book  still  popular  with  little  German  boys 
and  girls.  I  was  also  warmly  attached  to  the  en- 
thusiastic Hiibotter,  who,  under  the  name  of 
"Otter,"  afterwards  became  the  ornament  of  many 
of  the  larger  German  theatres.  Lindenbein,  Bro- 
sin,  the  talented  Gosrau,  and  the  no  less  gifted 
Schwalbe,  were  also  dear  friends. 

At  first  I  had  felt  much  older  than  my  compan- 
ions, and  I  really  had  seen  more  of  life  ;  but  I 
soon  perceived  that  they  were  splendid,  lovable 


AT   THE   QUEDLINBURG  GYMNASIUM.     28/ 

fellows.  My  wounded  heart  speedily  healed,  and 
the  better  my  physical  and  mental  condition  became 
the  more  my  demon  stirred  within  me.  It  was  no 
merit  of  mine  if  I  was  not  dubbed  "  the  foolhardy 
Ebers "  here  also.  The  summer  in  Quedlinburg 
was  a  delightful  season  of  mingled  work  and  pleas- 
ure. An  Easter  journey  through  the  Hartz  with 
some  gay  companions,  which  included  an  ascent 
of  the  Brocken — already  once  climbed  from  Keil- 
hau — is  among  my  most  delightful  memories. 

Like  the  Thuringian  Mountains,  the  Hartz  are 
also  wreathed  with  a  garland  of  legends  and  histor- 
ical memories.  Some  of  its  fairest  blossoms  are  in 
the  immediate  vicinity  of  Quedlinburg.  These  and 
the  delight  in  nature  with  which  I  here  renewed 
my  old  bond  tempted  more  than  one  of  us  to  write, 
and  very  different  poems,  deeper  and  with  more 
true  feeling,  than  those  produced  in  Kottbus.  A 
poetic  atmosphere  from  the  Hercynian  woods  and 
the  monuments  of  ancient  days  surrounded  our 
lives.  It  was  delightful  to  dream  under  the  rus- 
tling beeches  of  the  neighbouring  forest ;  and  in  the 
church  with  its  ancient  graves  and  the  crypt  of  St. 
Wiperti  Cloister,  the  oldest  specimen  of  Christian 
art  in  that  region,  we  were  filled  with  reverence 
for  the  days  of  old. 

The  life  of  the  great  Henry,  which  I  had  cele- 
brated in  verse  at  Kottbus,  became  a  reality  to  me 
here;  and  what  a  powerful  influence  a  visit  to  the 


288  THE   STORY  OF    MY   LIFE. 

ancient  cloister  exerted  on  our  young  souls !  The 
nearest  relatives  of  mighty  sovereigns  had  dwelt 
as  abbesses  within  its  walls.  But  two  generations 
ago  Anna  Amalie,  the  hapless  sister  of  Frederick 
the  Great,  died  while  holding  this  office. 

A  strange  and  lasting  impression  was  wrought 
upon  me  by  a  corpse  and  a  picture  in  this  convent. 
Both  were  in  a  subterranean  chamber  which  pos- 
sessed the  property  of  preserving  animal  bodies 
from  corruption.  In  this  room  was  the  body  of 
Countess  Aurora  von  Konigsmark,  famed  as  the 
most  beautiful  woman  of  her  time.  After  a  youth 
spent  in  splendour  she  had  retired  to  the  cloister 
as  superior,  and  there  she  now  lay  unveiled,  rigid, 
and  yellow,  although  every  feature  had  retained 
the  form  it  had  in  death.  Beside  the  body  hung 
her  portrait,  taken  at  the  time  when  a  smile  on  her 
lips,  a  glance  from  her  eyes,  was  enough  to  fire  the 
heart  of  the  coldest  man. 

A  terrible  antithesis ! 

Here  the  portrait  of  the  blooming,  beautiful 
husk  of  a  soul  exulting  in  haughty  arrogance ; 
yonder  that  husk  itself,  transformed  by  the  hand 
of  death  into  a  rigid,  colourless  caricature,  a  mum- 
my without  embalming. 

Art,  too,  had  a  place  in  Quedlinburg.  I  still 
remember  with  pleasure  Steuerwald's  beautiful 
winter  landscapes,  into  which  he  so  cleverly  intro- 
duced the  mediaeval  ruins  of  the  Hartz  region. 


AT   THE    QUEDLINBURG   GYMNASIUM.     289 

Thus,  Quedlinburg  was  well  suited  to  arouse  poetic 
feelings  in  young  hearts,  steep  the  soul  with  love 
for  the  beautiful,  time-honoured  region,  and  yet 
fill  it  with  the  desire  to  make  distant  lands  its  own. 
Every  one  knows  that  this  was  Klopstock's  birth- 
place ;  but  the  greatest  geographer  of  all  ages,  Karl 
Ritter,  whose  mighty  mind  grasped  the  whole  uni- 
verse as  if  it  were  the  precincts  of  his  home,  also 
first  saw  the  light  of  the  world  here. 

Gutsmuths,  the  founder  of  the  gymnastic  sys- 
tem, Bosse,  the  present  Minister  of  Public  Worship 
and  Instruction,  and  Julius  Wolff,  are  children  of 
Quedlinburg  and  pupils  of  its  gymnasium. 

The  long  vacation  came  between  the  written 
and  verbal  examinations,  and  as  I  had  learned 
privately  that  my  work  had  been  sufficiently  satis- 
factory, my  mother  gave  me  permission  to  go  to 
the  Black  Forest,  to  which  pleasant  memories  at- 
tracted me.  But  my  friend  Hey  had  seen  nothing 
of  the  world,  so  I  chose  a  goal  more  easily  at- 
tained, and  took  him  with  me  to  the  Rhine.  I  went 
home  by  the  way  of  Gottingen,  and  what  I  saw 
there  of  the  Saxonia  corps  filled  me  with  such 
enthusiasm  that  I  resolved  to  wear  the  blue,  white, 
and  blue  ribbon. 

The  oral  examination  was  also  successfully 
passed,  and  I  returned  to  my  mother,  who  received 
me  at  Hosterwitz  with  open  arms.  The  resolve  to 
devote  myself  to  the  study  of  law  and  to  com- 


THE    STORY   OF    MY    LIFE. 

mence  in  Gottingen  was  formed,  and  received  her 
approval. 

For  what  reason  I  preferred  the  legal  profes- 
sion it  would  be  hard  to  say.  Neither  mental  bias 
nor  interest  gained  by  any  searching  examination 
of  the  science  to  which  I  wished  to  devote  myself, 
turned  the  scale.  I  actually  gave  less  thought  to 
my  profession  and  my  whole  mental  and  external 
life  than  I  should  have  bestowed  upon  the  choice 
of  a  residence. 

In  the  ideal  school,  as  I  imagine  it,  the  pupils 
of  the  senior  class  should  be  briefly  made  ac- 
quainted with  what  each  one  of  the  principal  pro- 
fessions offers  and  requires  from  its  members. 
The  principal  of  the  institution  *  should  also  aid 
by  his  counsel  the  choice  of  the  young  men  with 
whose  talents  and  tastes  long  intercourse  had  ren- 
dered him  familiar. 

Of  course  I  imagine  this  man  not  only  a  teacher 
but  an  educator,  familiar  not  alone  with  the  school 
exercises,  but  with  the  mental  and  physical  char- 
acteristics of  those  who  are  to  graduate  from  the 
university. 

Had  not  the    heads  of  the    Keilhau   Institute 

*  It  should  never  contain  more  than  seventy  pupils.  Barop, 
when  I  met  him  after  I  attained  my  maturity,  named  sixty  as 
the  largest  number  which  permitted  the  teacher  to  know  and 
treat  individually  the  boys  confided  to  his  care.  He  would 
never  receive  more  at  Keilhau. 


AT   THE   UNIVERSITY.  29! 

lost  their  pupils  so  young,  they  would  undoubtedly 
have  succeeded  in  guiding  the  majority  to  the 
right  profession. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

AT    THE    UNIVERSITY. 

THE  weeks  following  my  graduation  were  as 
ill  suited  as  possible  to  the  decision  of  any  serious 
question. 

After  a  gay  journey  through  Bohemia  which 
ended  in  venerable  Prague,  I  divided  my  time  be- 
tween Hosterwitz,  Blasewitz,  and  Dresden.  In 
the  latter  city  I  met  among  other  persons,  princi- 
pally old  friends,  the  son  of  my  uncle  Branden- 
stein,  an  Austrian  lieutenant  on  leave  of  absence. 
I  spent  many  a  pleasant  evening  with  him  and  his 
comrades,  who  were  also  on  leave.  These  young 
gentlemen  considered  the  Italians,  against  whom 
they  fought,  as  rebels,  while  a  cousin  of  my  uncle, 
then  Colonel  von  Brandenstein,  but  afterwards  pro- 
moted in  the  Franco-Austrian  war  in  1859  and 
1866  to  the  rank  of  master  of  ordnance,  held 
a  totally  different  opinion.  This  clever,  warm- 
hearted soldier  understood  the  Italians  and  their 
struggle  for  unity  and  freedom,  and  judged  them 
so  justly  and  therefore  favorably,  that  he  often 
aroused  the  courteous  opposition  of  his  younger 


292 


THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 


comrades.  I  did  not  neglect  old  friends,  however, 
and  when  I  did  not  go  to  the  theatre  in  the  even- 
ing I  ended  the  day  with  my  aunt  at  Blasewitz. 
But,  on  my  mother's  account,  I  was  never  long  ab- 
sent from  Hosterwitz.  I  enjoyed  being  with  her  so 
much.  We  drove  and  walked  together,  and  dis- 
cussed everything  the  past  had  brought  and  the 
future  promised. 

Yet  I  longed  for  academic  freedom,  and  espe- 
cially to  sit  at  the  feet  of  an  Ernst  Curtius,  and  be 
initiated  by  Waitz  into  the  methodical  study  of 
history. 

The  evening  before  my  departure  my  mother 
drove  with  me  to  Blasewitz,  where  there  was  an 
elegant  entertainment  at  which  the  lyric  poet 
Julius  Hammer,  the  author  of  "  Look  Around  You 
and  Look  Within  You,"  who  was  to  become  a  dear 
friend  of  mine,  extolled  in  enthusiastic  verse  the 
delights  of  student  liberty  and  the  noble  sisters 
Learning  and  Poesy. 

The  glowing  words  echoed  in  my  heart  and 
mind  after  I  had  torn  myself  from  the  arms  of  my 
mother  and  of  the  woman  who,  next  to  her,  was 
dearest  to  me  on  earth,  my  aunt,  and  was  travel- 
ling toward  my  goal.  If  ever  the  feeling  that  I 
was  born  to  good  fortune  took  possession  of  me, 
it  was  during  that  journey. 

I  did  not  know  what  weariness  meant,  and 
when,  on  reaching  Gottingen,  I  learned  that  the 


AT   THE   UNIVERSITY. 


293 


students'  coffee-house  was  still  closed  and  that  no 
one  would  arrive  for  three  or  four  days,  i  went  to 
Cassel  to  visit  the  royal  garden  in  Wilhelmshohe. 

At  the  station  I  saw  a  gentleman  who  looked 
intently  at  me.  His  face,  too,  seemed  familiar.  I 
mentioned  my  name,  and  the  next  instant  he  had 
embraced  and  kissed  me.  Two  Keilhau  friends 
had  met,  and,  with  sunshine  alike  in  our  hearts  and 
in  the  blue  sky,  we  set  off  together  to  see  every- 
thing of  note  in  beautiful  Cassel. 

When  it  was  time  to  part,  Von  Born  told  me  so 
eagerly  how  many  of  our  old  school-mates  were 
now  living  in  Westphalia,  and  how  delightful  it 
would  be  to  see  them,  that  I  yielded  and  went  with 
him  to  the  birthplace  of  Barop  and  Middendorf. 

The  hours  flew  like  one  long  revel,  and  my  ex- 
uberant spirits  made  my  old  school-mates,  who, 
engaged  in  business  enterprises,  were  beginning  to 
look  life  solemnly  in  the  face,  feel  as  if  the  care- 
free Keilhau  days  had  returned.  On  going  back 
to  Gottingen,  I  still  had  to  wait  a  few  days  for 
the  real  commencement  of  the  term,  but  I  was 
received  at  the  station  by  the  "  Saxons,"  donned 
the  blue  cap,  and  engaged  pleasant  lodgings — 
though  the  least  adapted  to  serious  study  in  the 
"  Schonhiitte,"  a  house  in  Weenderstrasse  whose 
second  story  was  occupied  by  our  corps  room. 

My  expectations  of  the  life  with  young  men  of 
congenial  tastes  were  completely  fulfilled.  Most 


294 


THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 


of  them  belonged  to  the  nobility,  but  the  beloved 
"  blue,  white,  and  blue  "  removed  all  distinctions 
of  birth. 

By  far  the  most  talented  of  its  members  was 
Count  (now  Prince)  Otto  von  Stolberg-Wernege- 
rode,  who  was  afterwards  to  hold  so  high  a  position 
in  the  service  of  the  Prussian  Government. 

Among  the  other  scions  of  royal  families  were 
the  hereditary  Prince  Louis  of  Hesse-Darmstadt 
and  his  brother  Henry.  Both  were  vivacious, 
agreeable  young  men,  who  entered  eagerly  into  all 
the  enjoyments  of  student  and  corps  life.  The 
older  brother,  who  died  as  Grand  Duke,  continued 
his  friendship  for  me  while  sovereign  of  his  coun- 
try. I  was  afterwards  indebted  to  him  for  the 
pleasure  of  making  the  acquaintance  of  his  wife 
Alice,*  one  of  the  most  remarkable  women  whom 
I  have  ever  met. 

Oh,  what  delightful  hours  we  spent  in  the 
corps  room,  singing  and  revelling,  in  excursions 
through  the  beautiful  scenes  in  the  neighbourhood, 
and  on  the  fencing  ground,  testing  our  strength 
and  skill,  man  to  man  !  Every  morning  we  woke 
to  fresh  pleasures,  and  every  evening  closed  a 
spring  festal  day,  radiant  with  the  sunlight  of 
liberty  and  the  magic  of  friendship. 


*  Princess  Alice  of  England,  the  daughter  of  Oueen  Victo- 
ria.— TR. 


AT   THE  UNIVERSITY. 


295 


Our  dinner  was  eaten  together  at  the  "  Krone  " 
with  the  most  jovial  of  hosts,  old  Betmann,  whose 
card  bore  the  pictures  of  a  bed  and  a  man.  Then 
came  coffee,  drunk  at  the  museum  or  at  some 
restaurant  outside  of  the  city,  riding,  or  a  duel,  or 
there  was  some  excursion,  or  the  entertainment  of 
a  fellow-student  from  some  other  university,  and 
finally  the  tavern. 

Many  an  evening  also  found  me  with  some 
friends  at  the  Schiittenhof,  where  the  young  Phil- 
istines danced  with  the  little  burgher  girls  and 
pretty  dressmakers.  They  were  all,  however,  of 
unsullied  reputation,  and  how  merrily  I  swung 
them  around  till  the  music  ceased !  These  inno- 
cent amusements  could  scarcely  have  injured  my 
robust  frame,  yet  when  some  unusual  misfortune 
happens  it  is  a  trait  of  human  nature  to  seek  its 
first  germ  in  the  past.  I,  too,  scanned  the  period 
immediately  preceding  my  illness,  but  reached  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  due  to  acute  colds,  the  first 
of  which  ran  into  a  very  violent  fever. 

Had  the  result  been  otherwise  I  certainly 
should  not  have  permitted  my  sons  to  enjoy  to  the 
utmost  the  happy  period  which  in  my  case  was  too 
soon  interrupted. 

True,  the  hours  of  the  night  which  I  devoted 
to  study  could  scarcely  have  been  beneficial  to  my 
nervous  system;  for  when,  with  burning  head  and 
full  of  excitement,  I  returned  from  the  tavern — 


296  THE  STORY  OF   MY  LIFE. 

which  was  closed,  by  rule,  at  eleven — from  the 
"  Schiittenhof,"  or  some  ball  or  entertainment,  I 
never  went  to  rest ;  that  was  the  time  I  gave  the 
intellect  its  due.  Legal  studies  were  pursued  dur- 
ing the  hours  of  the  night  only  at  the  commence- 
ment of  my  stay  in  Gottingen,  for  I  rarely  at- 
tended the  lectures  for  which  I  had  entered  my 
name,  though  the  brevity  of  the  Roman  defini- 
tions of  law,  with  which  Ribbentropp's  lectures 
had  made  me  familiar,  afforded  me  much  pleasure. 
Unfortunately,  I  could  not  attend  the  lectures  of 
Ernst  Curtius,  who  had  just  been  summoned  to 
Gottingen,  on  account  of  the  hours  at  which  they 
were  given.  My  wish  to  join  Waitz's  classes  was 
also  unfulfilled,  but  I  went  to  those  of  the  philoso- 
pher Lotze,  and  they  opened  a  new  world  to  me. 
I  was  also  one  of  the  most  eager  of  Professor 
Unger's  hearers. 

Probably  his  "  History  of  Art  "  would  have  at- 
tracted me  for  its  own  sake,  but  I  must  confess 
that  at  first  his  charming  little  daughter  was  the 
sole  magnet  which  drew  me  to  his  lectures  ;  for  on 
account  of  displaying  the  pictures  he  delivered 
them  at  his  own  house. 

Unfortunately,  I  rarely  met  the  fair  Julie,  but, 
to  make  amends,  I  found  through  her  father  the 
way  to  that  province  of  investigation  to  which  my 
after-life  was  to  be  devoted. 

In  several  lessons  he  discussed  subtly  and  viv- 


AT   THE   UNIVERSITY. 


297 


idly  the  art  of  the  Egyptians,  mentioning  Cham- 
pollion's  deciphering  of  the  hieroglyphics. 

This  great  intellectual  achievement  awakened 
my  deepest  interest.  I  went  at  once  to  the  library, 
and  Unger  selected  the  books  which  seemed  best 
adapted  to  give  me  further  instruction. 

I  returned  with  Champollion's  Grammaire  Hie"- 
roglyphique,  Lepsius's  Lettre  a  Rosellini,  and  un- 
fortunately with  some  misleading  writings  by  Seyf- 
farth. 

How  often  afterward,  returning  in  the  evening 
from  some  entertainment,  I  have  buried  myself  in 
the  grammar  and  tried  to  write  hieroglyphics. 

True,  I  strove  still  more  frequently  and  persist- 
ently to  follow  the  philosopher  Lotze. 

Obedient  to  a  powerful  instinct,  my  untrained 
intellect  had  sought  to  read  the  souls  of  men.  Now 
I  learned  through  Lotze  to  recognize  the  body  as 
the  instrument  to  which  the  emotions  of  the  soul, 
the  harmonies  and  discords  of  the  mental  and  emo- 
tional life,  owe  their  origin. 

I  intended  later  to  devote  myself  earnestly  to 
the  study  of  physiology,  for  without  it  Lotze 
could  be  but  half  understood ;  and  from  physiol- 
ogists emanated  the  conflict  which  at  that  time  so 
deeply  stirred  the  learned  world. 

In  Gottingen  especially  the  air  seemed,  as  it 
were,  filled  with  physiological  and  other  questions 
of  the  natural  sciences. 


298  THE    STORY  OF    MY   LIFE. 

In  that  time  of  the  most  sorrowful  reaction  the 
political  condition  of  Germany  was  so  wretched 
that  any  discussion  concerning  it  was  gladly  avoid- 
ed. I  do  not  remember  having  attended  a  single 
debate  on  that  topic  in  the  circles  of  the  students 
with  which  I  was  nearly  connected. 

But  the  great  question  "  Materialism  or  Anti- 
materialism  "  still  agitated  the  Georgia  Augusta, 
in  whose  province  the  conflict  had  assumed  still 
sharper  forms,  owing  to  Rudolf  Wagner's  speech 
during  the  convention  of  the  Gottingen  naturalists 
three  years  prior  to  my  entrance. 

Carl  Vogt's  "  Science  and  Bigotry  "  exerted  a 
powerful  influence,  owing  to  the  sarcastic  tone  in 
which  the  author  attacked  his  calmer  adversary.  In 
the  honest  conviction  of  profound  knowledge,  the 
clever,  vigorous  champion  of  materialism  endeav- 
oured to  brand  the  opponents  of  his  dogmas  with 
the  stigma  of  absurdity,  and  those  who  flattered 
themselves  with  the  belief  that  they  belonged  to 
the  ranks  of  the  "  strong-minded  "  followed  his 
standard. 

Hegel's  influence  was  broken,  Schelling's  ideal- 
ism had  been  thrust  aside.  The  solid,  easily  acces- 
sible fare  of  the  materialists  was  especially  relished 
by  those  educated  in  the  natural  sciences,  and 
Vogt's  maxim,  that  thought  stands  in  a  similar  re- 
lation to  the  brain  as  the  gall  to  the  liver  and  the 
excretions  of  the  other  organs,  met  with  the  greater 


AT   THE   UNIVERSITY. 


299 


approval  the  more  confidently  and  wittily  it  was 
promulgated.  The  philosopher  could  not  help  as- 
serting that  the  nature  of  the  soul  could  be  dis- 
closed neither  by  the  scalpel  nor  the  microscope  ; 
yet  the  discoveries  of  the  naturalist,  which  had  led 
to  the  perception  of  the  relation  existing  between 
the  psychical  and  material  life  seemed  to  give  the 
most  honest,  among  whom  Carl  Vogt  held  the  first 
rank,  a  right  to  uphold  their  dogmas. 

Materialism  versus  Antimaterialism  was  the 
subject  under  discussion  in  the  learned  circles  of 
Germany.  Nay,  I  remember  scarcely  any  other 
powerful  wave  of  the  intellect  visible  during  this 
period  of  stagnation. 

Philosophy  could  not  fail  to  be  filled  with  pity 
and  disapproval  to  see  the  independent  existence 
of  the  soul,  as  it  were,  authoritatively  reaffirmed  by 
a  purely  empirical  science,  and  also  brought  into 
the  field  all  the  defensive  forces  at  her  command. 
But  throngs  flocked  to  the  camp  of  Materialism,  for 
the  trumpets  of  her  leaders  had  a  clearer,  more 
confident  sound  than  the  lower  and  less  readily 
understood  opposing  cries  of  the  philosophers. 

Vogt's  wrath  was  directed  with  special  keen- 
ness against  my  teacher,  Lotze.  These  topics  were 
rarely  discussed  at  the  tavern  or  among  the  mem- 
bers of  the  corps.  I  first  heard  them  made  the 
subject  of  an  animated  exchange  of  thought  in 
the  Dirichlet  household,  where  Professor  Baum 


300 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE.1 


emerged  from  his  aristocratic  composure  to  de- 
nounce vehemently  materialism  and  its  apostles. 

Of  course  I  endeavoured  to  gain  information 
about  things  which  so  strongly  moved  intellectual 
men,  and  read  in  addition  to  Lotze's  books  the 
polemical  writings  which  were  at  that  time  in 
everybody's  hands. 

Vogt's  caustic  style  charmed  me,  but  it  was  not 
due  solely  to  the  religious  convictions  which  I  had 
brought  from  my  home  and  from  Keilhau  that  I 
perceived  that  here  a  sharp  sword  was  swung  by  a 
strong  arm  to  cut  water.  The  wounds  it  dealt 
would  not  bleed,  for  they  were  inflicted  upon  a 
body  against  which  it  had  as  little  power  as  Satan 
against  the  cross. 

When,  before  I  became  acquainted  with  Feuer- 
bach,  I  flung  my  books  aside,  wearied  or  angered, 
I  often  seized  in  the  middle  of  the  night  my  mon- 
ster Poem  of  the  World,  my  tragedy  of  Panthea 
and  Abradatus,  or  some  other  poetical  work,  and 
did  not  retire  till  the  wick  of  the  lamp  burned  out 
at  three  in  the  morning. 

When  I  think  how  much  time  and  earnest  labour 
were  lavished  on  that  poem,  I  regret  having  yielded 
to  the  hasty  impulse  to  destroy  it. 

I  have  never  since  ventured  to  undertake  any- 
thing on  so  grand  a  scale.  I  could  repeat  only  a 
few  lines  of  the  verses  it  contained ;  but  the  plan 
of  the  whole  work,  as  I  rounded  it  in  Gottingen 


AT  THE   UNIVERSITY. 


301 


and  Hosterwitz,  I  remember  perfectly,  and  I  think, 
if  only  for  the  sake  of  its  peculiarity  and  as  the 
mirror  of  a  portion  of  my  intellectual  life  at  that 
time,  its  main  outlines  deserve  reproduction  here. 

I  made  Power  and  Matter,  which  I  imagined  as 
a  formless  element,  the  basis  of  all  existence. 
These  two  had  been  cast  forth  by  the  divine  Ruler 
of  a  world  incomprehensible  to  human  intelligence, 
in  which  the  present  is  a  moment,  space  a  bubble, 
as  out  of  harmony  with  the  mighty  conditions  and 
purposes  of  his  realm.  But  this  supreme  Ruler  of- 
fered to  create  for  them  a  world  suited  to  their 
lower  plane  of  existence.  Power  I  imagined  a  man, 
Matter  a  woman.  They  were  hostile  to  each  other, 
for  he  despised  his  quiet,  inert  companion,  she 
feared  her  restless,  unyielding  partner;  yet  the 
power  of  the  ruler  of  the  higher  world  forced 
them  to  wed. 

From  their  loveless  union  sprang  the  earth,  the 
stars — in  short,  all  inorganic  life. 

When  the  latter  showed  its  relation  to  the 
father,  Power,  by  the  impetuous  rush  of  the  stars 
through  space,  by  terrible  eruptions,  etc.,  the 
mother,  Matter,  was  alarmed,  and  as,  to  soothe 
them,  she  drew  into  her  embrace  the  flaming 
spheres,  which  dashed  each  other  to  pieces  in 
their  mad  career,  and  restrained  the  fiercest,  her 
chill  heart  was  warmed  by  her  children's  fire. 

Thus,  as  it  were,  raised  to  a  higher  condition, 


302  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

she  longed  for  less  unruly  children,  and  her  hus- 
band, Power,  who,  though  he  would  have  gladly 
cast  her  off,  was  bound  to  her  by  a  thousand  ties, 
took  pity  upon  her,  because  her  listlessness  and 
coldness  were  transformed  to  warmth  and  motion, 
and  another  child  sprang  from  their  union,  Love. 

But  she  seemed  to  have  been  born  to  misery, 
and  wandered  mournfully  about,  weeping  and  la- 
menting because  she  lacked  an  object  for  which  to 
labour.  True,  she  drew  from  the  flaming,  smoking 
bodies  which  she  kissed  a  soft,  beneficent  light,  she 
induced  some  to  give  up  their  former  impetuosity 
and  respect  the  course  of  others,  and  plants  and 
trees  sprang  from  the  earth  where  her  lips  touched 
it,  yet  her  longing  to  receive  something  which 
would  be  in  harmony  with  her  own  nature  re- 
mained unsatisfied. 

But  she  was  a  lovely  child  and  the  darling  of 
her  father,  whom,  by  her  entreaties,  she  persuaded 
to  animate  with  his  own  nature  the  shapes  which 
she  created  in  sport,  those  of  the  animals. 

From  this  time  there  were  living  creatures 
moved  by  Power  and  Love.  But  again  they  brought 
trouble  to  the  mother  ;  for  they  were  stirred  by 
fierce  passions,  under  whose  influence  they  at- 
tacked and  rent  each  other.  But  Love  did  not 
cease  to  form  new  shapes  until  she  attained  the 
most  beautiful,  the  human  form. 

Yet  human  beings  were  stirred  by  the   same 


AT   THE   UNIVERSITY.  303 

feelings  as  the  animals,  and  Love's  longing  for 
something  in  which  she  could  find  comfort  re- 
mained unsatisfied,  till,  repelled  by  her  savage 
father  and  her  listless  mother,  she  flung  herself  in 
despair  from  a  rock.  But  being  immortal,  she  did 
not  perish. 

Her  blood  sprinkled  the  earth,  and  from  her 
wounds  exhaled  an  exquisite  fragrance,  which  rose 
higher  and  higher  till  it  reached  the  realm  whence 
came  her  parents  ;  and  its  supreme  ruler  took  pity 
on  the  exile's  child,  and  from  the  blood  of  Love 
grew  at  his  sign  a  lily,  from  which  arose,  radiant  in 
white  garments,  Intellect,  which  the  Most  High 
had  breathed  into  the  flower. 

He  came  from  that  higher  world  to  ours,  but 
only  a  vague  memory  of  his  former  home  was  per- 
mitted, lest  he  should  compare  his  present  abode 
with  the  old  one  and  scorn  it. 

As  soon  as  he  met  Love  he  was  attracted  to- 
wards her,  and  she  ardently  accepted  his  suit ;  yet 
the  first  embrace  chilled  her,  and  her  fervour  startled 
and  repelled  him.  So,  each  fearing  the  other's  ten- 
derness, they  shunned  each  other,  though  an  invin- 
cible charm  constantly  drew  them  together. 

Love  continued  to  yearn  for  him  even  after  she 
had  sundered  the  bond  ;  but  he  often  yielded  to  the 
longing  for  his  higher  home,  of  whose  splendours  he 
retained  a  memory,  and  soared  upward.  Yet  when- 
ever he  drew  near  he  was  driven  back  to  the  other. 


304  THE   STORY    OF   MY   LIFE. 

There  he  directed  sometimes  with  Love,  sometimes 
alone,  the  life  of  everything  in  the  universe,  or  in 
unison  with  her  animated  men  with  his  breath. 

He  did  this  sometimes  willingly,  sometimes  re- 
luctantly, with  greater  or  less  strength,  according 
to  the  nearness  he  had  attained  to  his  heavenly 
home ;  but  when  he  had  succeeded  in  reaching  its 
circle  of  light,  he  returned  wonderfully  invigorated. 
Then  whoever  Love  and  he  joined  in  animating 
with  their  breath  became  an  artist. 

There  was  also  a  thoroughly  comic  figure  and 
one  with  many  humorous  touches.  Intellect's 
page,  Instinct,  who  had  risen  from  the  lily  with 
him,  was  a  comical  fellow.  When  he  tried  to  fol- 
low his  master's  flight  he  fell  after  the  first  few 
strokes  of  his  wings,  and  usually  among  nettles. 
Only  when  some  base  advantage  was  to  be  gained 
on  earth  did  this  servant  succeed  better  than  his 
master.  The  mother,  Matter,  whom  for  the  sake 
of  the  verse  I  called  by  her  Greek  name  Hyle, 
was  also  invested  with  a  shade  of  comedy  as 
a  dissatisfied  wife  and  the  mother-in-law  of  In- 
tellect. 

In  regard  to  the  whole  Poem  of  the  World  I 
will  observe  that,  up  to  the  time  I  finished  the  last 
line,  I  had  never  studied  the  kindred  systems  of  the 
Neo-Platonics  or  the  Gnostics. 

The  verses  which  described  the  moment  when 
Matter  drew  her  fierv  children  to  her  heart  and 


AT   THE   UNIVERSITY. 


305 


thus  warmed  it,  another  passage  in  which  men 
who  were  destitute  of  intellect  sought  to  destroy 
themselves  and  Love  resolved  to  sacrifice  her  own 
life,  and,  lastly,  the  song  where  Intellect  rises  from 
the  lily,  besides  many  others,  were  worthy,  in  my 
opinion,  of  being  preserved. 

What  first  diverted  my  attention  from  the  work 
was,  as  has  been  mentioned,  the  study  of  Feuerbach, 
to  which  I  had  been  induced  by  a  letter  from  the 
geographer  Karl  Andree.  I  eagerly  seized  his 
books,  first  choosing  his  "Axioms  of  the  Philosophy 
of  the  Future,"  and  afterwards  devoured  everything 
he  had  written  which  the  library  contained.  And 
at  that  time  I  was  grateful  to  my  friend  the  geog- 
rapher for  his  advice.  True,  Feuerbach  seemed  to 
me  to  shatter  many  things  which  from  a  child  I  had 
held  sacred;  yet  I  thought  I  discovered  behind  the 
falling  masonry  the  image  of  eternal  truth. 

The  veil  which  I  afterwards  saw  spread  over  so 
many  things  in  Feuerbach's  writings  at  that  time 
produced  the  same  influence  upon  me  as  the  mist 
whence  rise  here  the  towers,  yonder  the  battle- 
ments of  a  castle.  It  might  be  large  or  small ;  the 
grey  mist  which  forbids  the  eye  from  definitely 
measuring  its  height  and  width  by  no  means  pre- 
vents the  traveller,  who  knows  that  a  powerful  lord 
possesses  the  citadel,  from  believing  it  to  be  as 
large  and  well  guarded  as  the  power  of  its  ruler 
would  imply. 


306  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

True,  I  was  not  sufficiently  mature  for  the  study 
of  this  great  thinker,  whom  I  afterwards  saw  en- 
danger other  unripe  minds.  As  a  disciple  of  this 
master  there  were  many  things  to  be  destroyed 
which  from  childhood  had  become  interlaced  by  a 
thousand  roots  and  fibres  with  my  whole  intellect- 
ual organism,  and  such  operations  are  not  effected 
without  pain. 

What  I  learned  while  seeking  after  truth  dur- 
ing those  night  hours  ought  to  have  taught  me  the 
connection  between  mind  and  body ;  yet  I  was 
never  farther  from  perceiving  it.  A  sharp  division 
had  taken  place  in  my  nature.  By  night,  in  ardu- 
ous conflict,  I  led  a  strange  mental  life,  known  to 
myself  alone;  by  day  all  this  was  forgotten,  unless 
— and  how  rarely  this  happened — some  conversa- 
tion recalled  it. 

From  my  first  step  out  of  doors  I  belonged  to 
life,  to  the  corps,  to  pleasure.  What  was  individ- 
ual existence,  mortality,  or  the  eternal  life  of  the 
soul  !  Minerva's  bird  is  an  owl.  Like  it,  these 
learned  questions  belonged  to  the  night.  They 
should  cast  no  shadow  on  the  brightness  of  my 
day.  When  I  met  the  first  friend  in  the  blue  cap 
no  one  need  have  sung  our  corps  song,  "Away 
with  cares  and  crotchets  !  " 

At  no  time  had  the  exuberant  joy  in  mere  ex- 
istence stirred  more  strongly  within  me.  My  whole 
nature  was  filled  with  the  longing  to  utilize  and  en- 


AT   THE   UNIVERSITY. 


307 


joy  this  brief  earthly  life  which  Feuerbach  had 
proved  was  to  end  with  death. 

Better  an  hour's  mad  reval, 

E'en  a  kiss  from  a  Maenad's  lip, 

Than  a  year  of  timid  doubting, 
Daring  only  to  taste  and  sip. 

were  the  closing  lines  of  a  song  which  I  composed 
at  this  time. 

So  my  old  wantonness  unfolded  its  wings,  but 
it  was  not  to  remain  always  unpunished. 

My  mother  had  gone  to  Holland  with  Paula  just 
before  Advent,  and  as  I  could  not  spend  my  next 
vacation  at  home,  she  promised  to  furnish  me  with 
means  to  take  a  trip  through  the  great  German 
Hanse  cities. 

In  Bremen  I  was  most  cordially  received  in  the 
family  of  Mohr,  a  member  of  my  corps,  in  whose 
circle  I  spent  some  delightful  hours,  and  also  an 
evening  never  to  be  forgotten  in  the  famous  old 
Rathskeller. 

But  I  wished  to  see  the  harbour  of  the  great  com- 
mercial city,  and  the  ships  which  ploughed  the  ocean 
to  those  distant  lands  for  which  I  had  often  longed. 

Since  I  had  shot  my  first  hare  in  Komptendorf 
and  brought  down  my  first  partridge  from  the  air, 
the  love  of  sport  had  never  slumbered ;  I  gratified 
it  whenever  I  could,  and  intended  to  take  a  boat 
from  Bremerhaven  and  go  as  near  as  possible  to 
the  sea,  where  I  could  shoot  the  cormorants  and 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

the  bald-headed  eagles  which  hunters  on  the  sea- 
shore class  among  the  most  precious  booty. 

In  Bremerhaven  an  architect  whose  acquaint- 
ance I  had  made  on  the  way  became  my  cicerone, 
and  showed  me  all  the  sights  of  the  small  but  very 
quaint  port.  I  had  expected  to  find  the  bustle  on 
shore  greater,  but  what  a  throng  of  ships  and  boats, 
masts  and  smoke-sfacks  I  saw  ! 

My  guide  showed  me  the  last  lighthouse  which 
had  been  built,  and  took  me  on  board  of  a  mail 
steamer  which  was  about  to  sail  to  America. 

I  was  deeply  interested  in  all  this,  but  my  com- 
panion promised  to  show  me  things  still  more  re- 
markable if  I  would  give  up  my  shooting  excur- 
sion. 

Unfortunately,  I  insisted  upon  my  plan,  and  the 
next  morning  sailed  in  a  pouring  rain  through  a 
dense  mist  to  the  mouth  of  the  Weser  and  out  to 
sea.  But,  instead  of  pleasure  and  booty,  I  gained 
on  this  expedition  nothing  but  discomfort  and 
drenching,  which  resulted  in  a  violent  cold. 

What  I  witnessed  and  experienced  in  my  jour- 
ney back  to  Gottingen  is  scarcely  worth  mention- 
ing. The  only  enjoyable  hours  were  spent  at  the 
theatre  in  Hanover,  where  I  saw  Niemann  in  Tem- 
plar and  Jewess,  and  for  the  first  time  witnessed 
the  thoroughly  studied  yet  perfectly  natural  imper- 
sonations of  Marie  Seebach.  I  also  remember  with 
much  pleasure  the  royal  riding-school  in  charge  of 


THE   SHIPWRECK. 


309 


General  Meyer.  Never  have  I  seen  the  strength 
of  noble  chargers  controlled  and  guided  with  so 
much  firmness,  ease,  and  grace  as  by  the  hand  of 
this  officer,  the  best  horseman  in  Germany. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

THE    SHIPWRECK. 

THE  state  of  health  in  which,  still  with  a  slight 
fever  recurring  every  afternoon,  I  returned  to 
Gottingen  was  by  no  means  cheering. 

Besides,  I  was  obliged  at  once  to  undergo  the 
five  days'  imprisonment  to  which  I  had  been  justly 
sentenced  for  reckless  shooting  across  the  street. 

During  the  day  I  read,  besides  some  very  trashy 
novels,  several  by  Jean  Paul,  with  most  of  which  I 
had  become  familiar  while  a  school-boy  in  the  first 
class. 

They  had  given  me  so  much  pleasure  that  I 
was  vexed  with  the  indifference  with  which  some 
of  my  friends  laid  the  works  of  the  great  humorist 
aside. 

There  were  rarely  any  conversations  on  the 
more  serious  scientific  subjects  among  the  mem- 
bers of  the  corps,  though  it  did  not  lack  talented 
young  men,  and  some  of  the  older  ones  were  indus- 
trious. 


THE  STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

Nothing,  perhaps,  lends  the  life  of  the  corps  a 
greater  charm  than  the  affectionate  intercourse 
which  unites  individuals. 

I  was  always  sure  of  finding  sympathizers  for 
everything  that  touched  my  feelings. 

With  regard  to  the  results  of  my  nocturnal  la- 
bour the  case  was  very  different.  If  any  one  else 
had  "  bored  "  me  at  the  tavern  about  his  views  of 
Feuerbach  and  Lotze,  I  should  undoubtedly  have 
stopped  him  with  Goethe's  "  Ergo  bibamus." 

There  was  one  person  in  Gottingen,  however, 
Herbert  Pernice,  from  whom  I  might  expect  full 
sympathy.  Though  only  five  years  my  senior,  he 
was  already  enrolled  among  the  teachers  of  the 
legal  faculty.  The  vigour  and  keenness  of  his  intel- 
lect and  the  extent  of  his  knowledge  were  as  amaz- 
ing as  his  corpulence. 

One  evening  I  had  met  him  at  the  Krone  and 
left  the  table  at  which  he  presided  in  a  very  en- 
thusiastic state  of  mind  ;  for  while  emptying  I  know 
not  how  many  bottles  of  Rhine  wine  he  directed 
the  conversation  apparently  unconsciously. 

Each  of  his  statements  seemed  to  strike  the 
nail  on  the  head. 

The  next  day,  to  my  great  delight,  I  met  him 
again  at  Professor  Baum's.  He  had  retreated  from 
the  ladies,  whom  he  always  avoided,  and  as  we 
were  alone  in  the  room  I  soon  succeeded  in  turn- 
ing the  conversation  upon  Feuerbach,  for  I  fairly 


THE   SHIPWRECK.  3U 

longed  to  have  another  person's  opinion  of  him. 
Besides,  I  was  certain  of  hearing  the  philosopher 
criticised  by  the  conservative  antimaterialistic  Per- 
nice  in  an  original  manner — that  is,  if  he  knew 
him  at  all.  True,  I  might  have  spared  myself 
the  doubt  ;  for  into  what  domain  of  humanistic 
knowledge  had  not  this  highly  talented  man  en- 
tered ! 

Feuerbach  was  thoroughly  familiar  to  him,  but 
he  condemned  his  philosophy  with  pitiless  severity, 
and  opposed  with  keen  wit  and  sharp  dialectics  his 
reasons  for  denying  the  immortality  of  the  soul, 
inveighing  especially  against  the  phrase  and  idea 
"  philosophy  of  religion  "  as  an  absurdity  which 
genuine  philosophy  ought  not  to  permit  because  it 
dealt  only  with  thought,  while  religion  concerned 
faith,  whose  seat  is  not  in  the  head,  the  sacred 
fount  of  all  philosophy,  but  the  heart,  the  warm 
abode  of  religion  and  faith.  Then  he  advised  me 
to  read  Bacon,  study  Kant,  Plato,  and  the  other 
ancient  philosophers — Lotze,  too,  if  I  desired — and 
when  I  had  them  all  by  heart,  take  up  the  lesser 
lights,  and  even  then  be  in  no  hurry  to  read  Feu- 
erbach and  his  wild  theology. 

I  met  and  conversed  with  him  again  whenever 
I  could,  and  he  availed  himself  of  the  confidence 
he  inspired  to  arouse  my  enthusiasm  for  the  study 
of  jurisprudence.  So  I  am  indebted  to  Pernice  for 
many  benefits. 

21 


312  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

In  one  respect  only  my  reverence  for  him  en- 
tailed a  certain  peril. 

He  knew  what  I  was  doing,  but  instead  of 
warning  me  of  the  danger  which  threatened  me 
from  toiling  at  night  after  such  exciting  days,  he 
approved  my  course  and  described  episodes  of  his 
own  periods  of  study. 

One  of  the  three  essays  for  which  he  received 
prizes  had  been  written  to  compel  his  father  to  re- 
tract the  "  stupid  fellow  "  with  which  he  had  in- 
sulted him.  At  that  time  he  had  sat  over  his  books 
day  and  night  for  weeks,  and,  thank  Heaven,  did 
not  suffer  from  it. 

His  colossal  frame  really  did  seem  immovable, 
and  I  deemed  mine,  though  much  slighter,  capa- 
ble of  nearly  equal  endurance.  It  required  severe 
exertions  to  weary  me,  and  my  mind  possessed 
the  capacity  to  devote  itself  to  strenuous  labour 
directly  after  the  gayest  amusements,  and  there 
was  no  lack  of  such  "  pastimes  "  either  in  Gottin- 
gen  or  just  beyond  its  limits. 

Among  the  latter  was  an  excursion  to  Cassel 
which  was  associated  with  an  adventure  whose 
singular  course  impressed  it  firmly  on  my  memory. 

When  we  arrived,  chilled  by  the  railway  journey, 
an  acquaintance  of  the  friend  who  accompanied 
me  ordered  rum  and  water  for  us,  and  we  laughed 
and  jested  with  the  landlord's  pretty  daughters, 
who  brought  it  to  us. 


THE  SHIPWRECK. 


313 


As  it  had  been  snowing  heavily  and  the  sleigh- 
ing was  excellent,  we  determined  to  return  directly 
after  dinner,  and  drive  as  far  as  Miinden.  Of 
course  the  merry  girls  would  be  welcome  compan- 
ions, and  we  did  not  find  it  very  difficult  to  per- 
suade them  to  go  part  of  the  way  with  us. 

So  we  hired  two  sleighs  to  convey  us  to  a  vil- 
lage distant  about  an  hour's  ride,  from  which  we 
were  to  send  them  back  in  one,  while  my  friend 
and  I  pursued  our  journey  in  the  other. 

After  a  lively  dinner  with  our  friends  they 
joined  us. 

The  snow-storm,  which  had  ceased  for  several 
hours,  began  again,  growing  more  and  more  vio- 
lent as  we  drove  on.  I  never  saw  such  masses  of 
the  largest  flakes,  and  just  outside  the  village 
where  the  girls  were  to  turn  back  the  horses  could 
barely  force  their  way  through  the  white  mass 
which  transformed  the  whole  landscape  into  a  sin- 
gle snowy  coverlet. 

The  clouds  seemed  inexhaustible,  and  when  the 
time  for  departure  came  the  driver  declared  that 
it  would  be  impossible  to  go  back  to  Cassel. 

The  girls,  who,  exhilarated  by  the  swift  move- 
ment through  the  cold,  bracing  air,  had  entered  into 
our  merriment,  grew  more  and  more  anxious.  Our 
well-meant  efforts  to  comfort  them  were  rejected; 
they  were  angry  with  us  for  placing  them  in  such 
an  unpleasant  position. 


3J4 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 


The  lamps  were  lighted  when  I  thought  of  tak- 
ing the  landlady  into  our  confidence  and  asking 
her  to  care  for  the  poor  frightened  children.  She 
was  a  kind,  sensible  woman,  and  though  she  at  first 
exclaimed  over  their  heedlessness,  she  addressed 
them  with  maternal  tenderness  and  showed  them 
to  the  room  they  were  to  occupy. 

They  came  down  again  at  supper  reassured, 
and  we  ate  the  rustic  meal  together  very  merrily. 
One  of  them  wrote  a  letter  to  her  father,  saying 
that  they  had  been  detained  by  the  snow  at  the 
house  of  an  acquaintance,  and  a  messenger  set  off 
with  it  at  sunrise,  but  we  were  told  that  the  road 
would  not  be  passable  before  noon. 

Yet,  gay  as  our  companions  were  at  breakfast, 
the  thought  of  entertaining  them  longer  seemed 
irksome,  and  as  the  church  bells  were  ringing  some 
one  proposed  that  we  should  go. 

A  path  had  been  shovelled,  and  we  were  soon 
seated  in  the  country  church.  The  pastor,  a  fine- 
looking  man  of  middle  age,  entered,  and  though  I 
no  longer  remember  his  text,  I  recollect  perfectly 
that  he  spoke  of  the  temptations  which  threaten  to 
lure  us  from  the  right  paths  and  the  means  of  re- 
sisting them. 

One  of  the  most  effectual,  he  said,  was  the  re- 
membrance of  those  to  whom  we  owe  love  and 
respect.  I  thought  of  my  mother  and  blind  old 
Langethal,  of  Tzschirner,  and  of  Herbert  Pernice, 


THE   SHIPWRECK. 


3*5 


and,  dissatisfied  with  myself,  resolved  to  do  in  the 
future  not  only  what  was  seemly,  but  what  the 
duty  of  entering  more  deeply  into  the  science  which 
I  had  chosen  required. 

The  childish  faith  which  Feuerbach's  teachings 
had  threatened  to  destroy  seemed  to  gaze  loyally 
at  me  with  my  mother's  eyes.  I  felt  that  Pernice 
was  right — it  was  the  warm  heart,  not  the  cool 
head,  which  should  deal  with  these  matters,  and  I 
left  the  church,  which  I  had  entered  merely  to 
shorten  an  hour,  feeling  as  if  released  from  a 
burden. 

Our  return  home  was  pleasant,  and  I  began  to 
attend  the  law  lectures  at  Gottingen  with  tolerable 
regularity. 

I  was  as  full  of  life,  and,  when  occasion  offered, 
as  reckless,  as  ever,  though  a  strange  symptom  be- 
gan to  make  itself  unpleasantly  felt.  It  appeared 
only  after  severe  exertion  in  walking,  fencing,  or 
dancing,  and  consisted  of  a  peculiar,  tender  feeling 
in  the  soles  of  my  feet,  which  I  attributed  to  some 
fault  of  the  shoemaker,  and  troubled  myself  the 
less  about  it  because  it  vanished  soon  after  I 
came  in. 

But  the  family  of  Professor  Baum,  the  famous 
surgeon,  where  I  was  very  intimate,  had  thought 
ever  since  my  return  from  the  Christmas  vacation 
that  I  did  not  look  well. 

With   Marianne,   the  second    daughter  of   this 


316  THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE. 

hospitable  household,  a  beautiful  girl  of  remarka- 
bly brilliant  mind,  I  had  formed  so  intimate,  al- 
most fraternal,  a  friendship,  that  both  she  and  her 
warm-hearted  mother  called  me  "  Cousin  Schorge." 

Frau  Dirichlet,  the  wife  of  the  great  mathema- 
tician, the  sister  of  Felix  Mendelssohn  Bartholdy, 
in  whose  social  and  musical  home  I  spent  hours  of 
pleasure  which  will  never  be  forgotten,  also  ex- 
pressed her  anxiety  about  my  loss  of  flesh.  When 
a  girl  she  had  often  met  my  mother,  and  at  my 
first  visit  she  won  my  affection  by  her  eager  praise 
of  that  beloved  woman's  charms. 

As  the  whole  family  were  extremely  musical 
they  could  afford  themselves  and  their  friends  a 
great  deal  of  enjoyment.  I  have  never  heard 
Joachim  play  so  entrancingly  as  to  her  accompani- 
ment. At  a  performance  in  her  own  house,  where 
the  choruses  from  Cherubini's  Water-Carrier  were 
given,  she  herself  had  rehearsed  the  music  with 
those  who  were  to  take  part,  and  to  hear  her  play 
on  the  piano  was  a  treat. 

This  lady,  a  remarkable  woman  in  every  re- 
spect, who  gave  me  many  tokens  of  maternal  affec- 
tion, insisted  on  the  right  to  warn  me.  She  did 
this  by  reminding  me,  with  delicate  feminine  tact, 
of  my  mother  when  she  heard  of  a  wager  which  I 
now  remember  with  grave  disapproval.  This  was 
to  empty  an  immense  number  of  bottles  of  the 
heavy  WUrzburg  Stein  wine  and  yet  remain  per- 


THE   SHIPWRECK. 


317 


fectly  sober.  My  opponent,  who  belonged  to  the 
Brunswick  Corps,  lost,  but  as  soon  after  I  was 
attacked  by  illness,  though  not  in  consequence  of 
this  folly,  which  had  occurred  about  a  fortnight 
before,  he  could  not  give  the  breakfast  which  I 
had  won.  But  he  fulfilled  his  obligation ;  for 
when,  several  lustra  later,  I  visited  his  native  city 
of  Hamburg  as  a  Leipsic  professor,  to  deliver  an 
address  before  the  Society  of  Art  and  Science,  he 
arranged  a  splendid  banquet,  at  which  I  met  sev- 
eral old  Gottingen  friends. 

The  term  was  nearly  over  when  an  entertain- 
ment was  given  to  the  corps  by  one  of  its  aristo- 
cratic members.  It  was  a  very  gay  affair.  A  band 
of  music  played,  and  we  students  danced  with  one 
another.  I  was  one  of  the  last  to  depart,  long 
after  midnight,  and  on  looking  for  my  overcoat  I 
could  not  find  it.  One  of  the  guests  had  mistaken 
it  for  his,  and  the  young  gentleman's  servant  had 
carried  his  own  home.  This  was  unfortunate,  for 
mine  contained  my  door-key. 

Heated  by  dancing,  in  a  dress-coat,  with  a  thin 
white  necktie,  I  went  out  into  the  night  air.  It 
was  cold,  and,  violently  as  I  pounded  on  the  door 
of  the  Schonhiitte,  no  one  opened  it.  At  last  I 
thought  of  pounding  on  the  gutter-spout,  which  I  did 
till  I  roused  the  landlord.  But  I  had  been  at  least 
fifteen  minutes  in  the  street,  and  was  fairly  numbed. 
The  landlord  was  obliged  to  open  the  room  and 


318  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

light  my  lamp,  because  I  could  not  use  my  fin- 
gers. 

If  I  had  been  intoxicated,  which  I  do  not  be- 
lieve, the  cold  would  have  sobered  me,  for  what 
happened  is  as  distinct  as  if  it  had  occurred  yes- 
terday. 

I  undressed,  went  to  bed,  and  when  I  was 
roused  by  a  strange  burning  sensation  in  my  throat 
I  felt  so  weak  that  I  could  scarcely  lift  my  arm. 
There  was  a  peculiar  taste  of  blood  in  my  mouth, 
and  as  I  moved  I  touched  something  moist.  But 
my  exhaustion  was  so  great  that  I  fell  asleep 
again,  and  the  dream  which  followed  was  so  de- 
lightful that  I  did  not  forget  it.  Perhaps  the  dis- 
tinctness of  my  recollection  is  due  to  my  making 
it  the  subject  of  a  poem,  which  I  still  possess.  It 
seemed  as  if  I  were  lying  in  an  endless  field  of 
poppies,  with  the  notes  of  music  echoing  around 
me.  Never  did  I  have  a  more  blissful  vision. 

The  awakening  was  all  the  more  terrible.  Only 
a  few  hours  could  have  passed  since  I  went  to  rest. 
Dawn  was  just  appearing,  and  I  rang  for  the  old 
maid-servant  who  waited  on  me.  An  hour  later 
Geheimrath  Baum  stood  beside  my  bed. 

The  heavy  tax  made  upon  my  physical  powers 
by  exposure  to  the  night  air  had  caused  a  severe 
haemorrhage.  The  excellent  physician  who  took 
charge  of  my  case  said  positively  that  my  lungs 
were  sound,  and  the  attack  was  due  to  the  burst- 


THE   SHIPWRECK. 


319 


ing  of  a  blood-vessel.  I  was  to  avoid  sitting  up- 
right in  bed,  to  receive  no  visitors,  and  have  ice  ap- 
plied. I  believed  myself  destined  to  an  early  death, 
but  the  departure  from  life  caused  me  no  fear  ;  nay, 
I  felt  so  weary  that  I  desired  nothing  but  eternal 
sleep.  Only  I  wanted  to  see  my  mother  again. 

Then  let  my  end  come ! 

I  was  in  the  mood  to  write,  and  either  the  day 
after  the  haemorrhage  or  the  next  one  I  composed 
the  following  verses  : 

A  field  of  poppies  swaying  to  and  fro. 

Their  blossoms  scarlet  as  fresh  blood,  I  see, 

While  o'er  me,  radiant  in  the  noontide  glow, 
The  sky,  blue  as  corn-flowers,  arches  free. 

Low  music  echoes  through  the  breezes  warm  ; 

The  violet  lends  the  poppy  her  sweet  breath  ; 
The  song  of  nightingales  is  heard,  a  swarm 

Of  butterflies  flit  hov'ring  o'er  the  heath. 

While  thus  I  lie,  wrapped  in  a  morning  dream, 
Half  waking,  half  asleep,  'mid  poppies  red, 

A  fresh  breeze  cools  my  burning  cheeks  ;  a  gleam 
Of  light  shines  in  the  East.     Hath  the  night  sped  ? 

Then  upward  from  an  opening  bud  hath  flown 

A  poppy  leaf  toward  the  azure  sky, 
But  close  beside  it,  from  a  flower  full-blown, 

The  scattered  petals  on  the  brown  earth  lie. 

The  leaflet  flutters,  a  fair  sight  to  view, 

By  the  fresh  matin  breezes  heavenward  borne, 

The  faded  poppy  falls,  the  fields  anew 
To  fertilize,  which  grateful  thanks  return. 


320  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

Starting  from  slumber  round  my  room  I  gaze — 
My  hand  of  my  own  life-blood  bears  the  stain  ; 

I  am  the  poppy-leaf,  with  the  first  rays 

Of  morning  snatched  away  from  earth's  domain. 

Not  mine  the  fate  the  world's  dark  ways  to  wend, 
And  perish,  wearied,  at  the  goal  of  life  ; 

Still  glad  and  blooming,  I  leave  every  friend  ; 
The  game  is  lost — but  with  what  joys  'twas  rife  ! 

I  cannot  express  how  these  verses  relieved  my 
heart ;  and  when  on  the  third  day  I  again  felt 
comparatively  well  I  tried  to  believe  that  I  should 
soon  recover,  enjoy  the  pleasures,  of  corps  life, 
though  with  some  caution,  and  devote  myself  seri- 
ously to  the  study  of  jurisprudence  under  Pernice's 
direction. 

The  physician  gave  his  permission  for  a  speedy 
return,  but  his  assurance  that  there  was  no  imme- 
diate danger  if  I  was  careful  did  not  afford  me  un- 
mixed pleasure.  For  my  mother's  sake  and  my 
own  I  desired  to  live,  but  the  rules  he  prescribed 
before  my  departure  were  so  contradictory  to  my 
nature  that  they  seemed  unbearably  cruel.  They 
restricted  every  movement.  He  feared  the  haemor- 
rhage far  less  than  the  tender  feeling  in  the  soles 
of  my  feet  and  other  small  symptoms  of  the  com- 
mencement of  a  chronic  disease. 

Middendorf  had  taught  us  to  recognize  God's 
guidance  in  Nature  and  our  own  lives,  and  how 
often  I  succeeded  in  doing  so  !  But  when  I  exam- 


IN   THE   SCHOOL  OF   LIFE. 


321 


ined  myself  and  my  condition  closely  it  seemed  as 
if  what  had  befallen  me  was  the  result  of  a  mali- 
cious or  blind  chance. 

Never  before  or  since  have  I  felt  so  crushed 
and  destitute  of  support  as  during  those  days,  and 
in  this  mood  I  left  the  city  where  the  spring  days 
of  life  had  bloomed  so  richly  for  me,  and  returned 
home  to  my  mother.  She  had  learned  what  had 
occurred,  but  the  physician  had  assured  her  that 
with  my  vigorous  constitution  I  should  regain  my 
health  if  I  followed  his  directions. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

THE    HARDEST    TIME    IN    THE    SCHOOL    OF    LIFE. 

THE  period  which  now  followed  was  the  most 
terrible  of  my  whole  life.  Even  the  faithful  love 
that  surrounded  me  could  do  little  to  relieve  it. 

Medicines  did  not  avail,  and  I  had  not  yet  found 
the  arcanum  which  afterwards  so  greatly  benefitted 
my  suffering  soul. 

The  props  which  my  mother  and  Middendorf 
had  bestowed  upon  me  when  a  boy  had  fallen ; 
and  the  feeling  of  convalescence,  which  gives  the 
invalid's  life  a  sense  of  bliss  the  healthy  person 
rarely  knows,  could  not  aid  me,  for  the  disease 
increased  with  wonderful  speed. 


322 


THE   STORY  OF   MY    LIFE. 


When  autumn  came  I  was  so  much  worse  that 
Geheimrath  von  Ammon,  a  learned  and  experi- 
enced physician,  recalled  his  advice  that  my  mother 
and  I  should  spend  the  winter  in  the  south.  The 
journey  would  have  been  fatal.  The  correctness 
of  his  judgment  was  proved  by  the  short  trip  to 
Berlin  which  I  took  with  my  mother,  aided  by  my 
brother  Martin,  who  was  then  a  physician  studying 
with  the  famous  clinical  doctor  Schonlein.  It  was 
attended  with  cruel  suffering  and  the  most  injuri- 
ous results,  but  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  return 
to  my  comfortable  winter  quarters.  Our  old  friend 
and  family  physician,  who  had  come  to  Hosterwitz 
in  September  to  visit  me,  wished  to  have  me  near 
him,  and  in  those  d^ys  there  was  probably  no  one 
who  deserved  more  confidence ;  for  Heinrich  Mo- 
ritz  Romberg  was  considered  the  most  distinguished 
pathologist  in  nervous  diseases  in  Germany,  and 
his  works  on  his  own  specialty  are  still  valued. 

In  what  a  condition  I  entered  the  home  which 
I  had  left  so  strong  and  full  of  youthful  vigour  ! 
And  Berlin  did  not  receive  me  kindly;  for  the  first 
months  I  spent  there  brought  days  of  suffering 
with  fever  in  the  afternoon,  and  nights  whose  con- 
dition was  no  less  torturing  than  pain. 

But  our  physician  had  been  present  at  my  birth, 
he  was  my  godfather,  and  as  kind  as  if  I  were  his 
son.  He  did  everything  in  his  power  to  relieve  me, 
but  the  remedies  he  used  were  not  much  easier  to 


IN   THE   SCHOOL  OF   LIFE. 


323 


bear  than  many  a  torturing  disease.  And  hardest 
of  all,  I  was  ordered  to  keep  perfectly  still  in  bed. 
What  a  prospect !  But  when  I  had  once  resolved 
to  follow  the  doctor's  advice,  I  controlled  with  the 
utmost  care  every  movement  of  my  body.  I,  who 
had  so  often  wished  to  fly,  lay  like  my  own  corpse. 

I  did  not  move,  for  I  did  not  want  to  die,  and 
intended  to  use  every  means  in  my  power  to  defer 
the  end.  Death,  which  after  the  haemorrhage  had 
appeared  as  the  beautiful  winged  boy  who  is  so 
easily  mistaken  for  the  god  of  love — Death,  who 
had  incited  me  to  write  saucy,  defiant  verses  about 
him,  now  confronted  me  as  a  hollow-eyed,  hideous 
skeleton. 

In  the  guise  of  the  most  appalling  figure  among 
the  apocalyptic  riders  of  Cornelius,  who  had  used 
me  when  a  child  for  the  model  of  a  laughing  angel, 
he  seemed  to  be  stretching  his  hand  toward  me 
from  his  emaciated  steed.  The  poppy  leaf  was 
not  to  flutter  toward  the  sky,  but  to  wither  in 
the  dust. 

Once,  several  weeks  after  our  return  home,  I 
saw  the  eyes  of  my  mother,  who  rarely  wept,  red- 
dened with  tears  after  a  conversation  with  Dr.  Rom- 
berg.  When  I  asked  my  friend  and  physician  if  he 
would  advise  me  to  make  my  will,  he  said  that  it 
could  do  no  harm. 

Soon  after  Hans  Geppert,  who  meanwhile  had 
become  a  notary,  arrived  with  two  witnesses,  odd- 


324 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 


looking  fellows  who  belonged  to  the  working  class, 
and  I  made  my  will  in  due  form.  The  certainty 
that  when  I  was  no  more  what  I  possessed  would 
be  divided  as  I  wished  was  a  ray  of  light  in  this 
gloomy  time. 

No  one  knows  the  solemnity  of  Death  save  the 
person  whom  his  cold  hand  has  touched,  and  I  felt 
it  for  weeks  upon  my  heart. 

What  days  and  nights  these  were  ! 

Yet  in  the  presence  of  the  open  grave  from  which 
I  shrank  something  took  place  which  deeply  moved 
my  whole  nature,  gave  it  a  new  direction,  led  me 
to  self-examination,  and  thence  to  a  knowledge  of 
my  own  character  which  revealed  many  surprising 
and  unpleasing  things.  But  I  also  felt  that  it  was 
not  yet  too  late  to  bring  the  good  and  evil  traits, 
partly  hereditary,  partly  acquired,  into  harmony 
with  one  another  and  render  them  of  use  to  the 
same  higher  objects. 

Yes,  if  I  were  permitted  time  to  do  so ! 

I  had  learned  how  quickly  and  unexpectedly  the 
hour  strikes  which  puts  an  end  to  all  struggle  to- 
wards a  goal. 

Besides,  I  now  knew  what  would  protect  me 
from  a  relapse  into  the  old  careless  waste  of 
strength,  what  could  aid  me  to  do  my  utmost,  for 
the  mother's  heart  had  again  found  the  son's,  fully 
and  completely. 

I  had  been  forced  to  become  as  helpless  as  a 


IN   THE   SCHOOL  OF   LIFE. 


325 


child  in  order  again  to  lay  my  head  upon  her  breast 
and  belong  to  her  as  completely  as  during  the  first 
years  of  life.  During  the  long  nights  when  fever 
robbed  me  of  sleep  she  sat  beside  my  bed,  holding 
my  hands  in  hers. 

At  last  one  came  which  contained  hours  of  the 
most  intense  suffering,  and  in  its  course  she  asked, 
"  Can  you  still  pray  ?  "  The  answer,  which  came 
from  my  inmost  heart,  was,  "  When  you  are  with 
me,  and  with  you,  certainly." 

We  remained  silent  a  long  time,  and  whenever 
impatience,  suffering,  and  faintness  threatened  to 
overpower  me,  I  found,  like  Antaeus  when  he 
touched  the  earth  that  had  given  him  birth,  new 
strength  in  my  mother's  heart. 

My  old  life  seemed  henceforward  to  lie  far  be- 
hind me. 

I  did  not  take  up  Feuerbach's  writings  again  ; 
his  way  could  never  again  have  been  mine.  In  my 
suffering  it  had  become  evident  from  what  an  Eden 
he  turns  away  and  into  what  a  wilderness  he  leads. 
But  I  still  value  this  thinker  as  an  honest,  virile, 
and  brilliantly  gifted  seeker  after  truth. 

I  also  laid  aside  the  other  philosophers  whose 
works  I  had  been  studying. 

I  never  resumed  Lotze,  though  later,  with  two 
other  students,  I  attended  Trendelenburg's  difficult 
course,  and  tried  to  comprehend  Kant's  "critiques." 
I  first  became  familiar  with  Schopenhauer  in  Jena. 


326  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  again  devoted  many  leisure 
hours  to  Egyptological  works. 

I  felt  that  these  studies  suited  my  powers  and 
would  satisfy  me.  Everything  which  had  formerly 
withheld  me  from  the  pursuits  of  learning  now 
seemed  worthless.  It  was  as  if  I  stood  in  a  new 
relation  to  all  things.  Even  the  one  to  my  mother 
had  undergone  a  transformation.  I  realized  for  the 
first  time  what  I  possessed  in  her,  how  wrong  I  had 
been,  and  what  I  owed  to  her.  One  day  during  this 
period  I  remembered  my  Poem  of  the  World,  and 
instantly  had  the  box  brought  in  which  I  kept  it 
among  German  favours,  little  pink  notes,  and  simi- 
lar trophies. 

For  the  first  time  I  perceived,  in  examining  the 
fruits  of  the  labour  of  so  many  days  and  nights,  the 
vast  disproportion  between  the  magnitude  of  the 
subject  and  my  untrained  powers.  One  passage 
seemed  faulty,  another  so  overstrained  and  inade- 
quate, that  I  flung  it  angrily  back  among  the  rest. 
At  the  same  time  I  thought  that  the  verses  I  had 
addressed  to  various  beauties  and  the  answers 
which  I  had  received  ought  not  to  be  seen  by 
other  eyes.  I  was  alone  with  the  servant,  a  bright 
fire  was  blazing  in  the  stove,  and,  obedient  to  a 
hasty  impulse,  I  told  him  to  throw  the  whole  con- 
tents of  the  box  into  the  fire. 

When  the  last  fragment  was  consumed  to  ashes 
I  uttered  a  sigh  of  relief 


IN   THE   SCHOOL  OF   LIFE.  327 

Unfortunately,  the  flames  also  destroyed  the 
greater  part  of  my  youthful  poems.  Even  the 
completed  acts  of  my  tragedy  had  been  overtaken 
by  destruction,  like  the  heroes  of  Panthea  and 
Abradatus. 

If  I  had  formerly  obeyed  the  physician's  order 
to  lie  motionless,  I  followed  it  after  the  first  signs 
of  convalescence  so  rigidly  that  even  the  experi- 
enced Dr.  Romberg  admitted  that  he  had  not  given 
me  credit  for  so  much  self-control.  Toward  the 
end  of  the  winter  my  former  cheerfulness  returned, 
and  with  it  I  also  learned  to  use  the  arcanum  I  have 
formerly  mentioned,  which  makes  even  the  most 
bitter  things  enjoyable  and  lends  them  a  taste  of 
sweetness.  I  might  term  it  "  the  practice  of  grati- 
tude." Without  intending  it,  I  acquired  the  art  of 
thankfulness  by  training  my  eyes  to  perceive  the 
smallest  trifle  which  gave  cause  for  it.  And  this 
recognition  of  even  the  least  favour  of  Fortune 
filled  the  rude  wintry  days  with  so  much  sunshine, 
that  when  children  of  my  own  were  given  me  my 
first  effort  was  to  train  them  to  gratitude,  and 
especially  to  an  appreciation  of  trifles. 

The  motto  Carpe  diem,  which  I  had  found  in 
my  father's  Horace  and  had  engraved  upon  my 
seal  ring,  unexpectedly  gained  a  new  significance 
by  no  longer  translating  it  "enjoy,"  but  "use  the 
day,"  till  the  time  came  when  the  two  meanings 
seemed  identical. 

22 


328  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

THE    APPRENTICESHIP. 

FIRMLY  as  I  had  resolved  to  follow  the  counsel 
of  Horace,  and  dear  as  earnest  labour  was  becom- 
ing, I  still  lacked  method,  a  fixed  goal  towards 
which  to  move  with  firm  tread  in  the  seclusion  to 
which  my  sufferings  still  condemned  me. 

I  had  relinquished  the  study  of  the  law.  It 
seemed  more  than  doubtful  whether  my  health 
would  ever  permit  me  to  devote  myself  to  a  prac- 
tical profession  or  an  academic  career,  and  my  in- 
terest in  jurisprudence  was  too  slight  to  have  it 
allure  me  to  make  it  the  subject  of  theoretical 
studies. 

Egyptology,  on  the  contrary,  not  only  attracted 
me  but  permitted  me  to  devote  my  whole  strength 
to  it  so  far  as  my  health  would  allow.  True, 
Champollion,  the  founder  of  this  science,  termed 
it  "  a  beautiful  dowerless  maiden,"  but  I  could 
venture  to  woo  her,  and  felt  grateful  that,  in  choos- 
ing my  profession,  I  could  follow  my  inclination 
without  being  forced  to  consider  pecuniary  advan- 
tages. 

The  province  of  labour  was  found,  but  with 
each  step  forward  the  conviction  of  my  utter  lack 
of  preparation  for  the  new  science  grew  clearer. 


THE   APPRENTICESHIP. 


329 


Just  then  the  kind  heart  of  Wilhelm  Grimm's 
wife  brought  her  to  me  with  some  delicious  fruit 
syrup  made  by  her  own  hands.  When  I  told  her 
what  I  was  doing  and  expressed  a  wish  to  have  a 
guide  in  my  science,  she  promised  to  tell  "  the 
men  "  at  home,  and  within  a  few  days  after  his 
sister-in-law's  visit  Jacob  was  sitting  with  me. 

He  inquired  with  friendly  interest  how  my  at- 
tention had  been  called  to  Egyptology,  what 
progress  I  had  made,  and  what  other  sciences  I 
was  studying. 

After  my  reply  he  shook  his  venerable  head 
with  its  long  grey  locks,  and  said,  smiling : 

"You  have  been  putting  the  cart  before  the 
horse.  But  that's  the  way  with  young  specialists. 
They  want  to  become  masters  in  the  workshops  of 
their  sciences  as  a  shoemaker  learns  to  fashion 
boots.  Other  things  are  of  small  importance  to 
them ;  and  yet  the  special  discipline  first  gains 
value  in  connection  with  the  rest  or  the  wider 
province  of  the  allied  sciences.  Your  decipher- 
ing of  hieroglyphics  can  only  make  you  a  drago- 
man, and  you  must  become  a  scholar  in  the  higher 
sense,  a  real  and  thorough  one.  The  first  step  is 
to  lay  the  linguistic  foundation." 

This  was  said  with  the  engaging  yet  impres- 
sively earnest  frankness  characteristic  of  him.  He 
himself  had  never  investigated  Egyptian  matters 
closely,  and  therefore  did  not  seek  to  direct  my 


330  THE  STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

course  minutely,  but  advised  me,  in  general,  never 
to  forget  that  the  special  science  was  nothing  save 
a  single  chord,  which  could  only  produce  its  full 
melody  with  those  that  belonged  to  the  same  lute. 

Lepsius  had  a  broader  view  than  most  of  those 
engaged  in  so  narrow  a  field  of  study.  He  would 
speak  of  me  to  him. 

The  next  Thursday  Lepsius  called  on  me.  I 
know  this  because  that  day  was  reserved  for  his 
subsequent  visits. 

After  learning  what  progress  I  had  made  by  my 
own  industry,  he  told  me  what  to  do  next,  and 
lastly  promised  to  come  again. 

He  had  inquired  about  my  previous  education, 
and  urged  me  to  study  philology,  archaeology,  and 
at  least  one  Semitic  language.  Later  he  voluntarily 
informed  me  how  much  he,  who  had  pursued  philo- 
logical, archaeological,  Sanscrit,  and  Germanistic 
studies,  had  been  impeded  in  his  youth  by  having 
neglected  the  Semitic  languages,  which  are  more 
nearly  allied  to  the  Egyptian.  It  would  be  neces- 
sary also  for  me  to  understand  English  and  Italian, 
since  many  things  which  the  Egyptologist  ought  to 
know  were  published  in  these  languages,  as  well  as 
in  French.  Lastly  he  advised  me  to  obtain  some 
insight  into  Sanscrit,  which  was  the  point  of  de- 
parture for  all  linguistic  studies. 

His  requirements  raised  mountain  after  moun- 
tain in  my  path,  but  the  thought  of  being  com- 


THE   APPRENTICESHIP. 


331 


pelled  to  scale  these  heights  not  only  did  not  repel 
me,  but  seemed  extremely  attractive.  I  felt  as  if 
my  strength  increased  with  the  magnitude  and 
multiplicity  of  the  tasks  imposed,  and,  full  of  joy- 
ous excitement,  I  told  Lepsius  that  I  was  ready  to 
fulfil  his  requirements  in  every  detail. 

We  now  discussed  in  what  sequence  and  man- 
ner I  should  go  to  work,  and  to  this  day  I  admire 
the  composure,  penetration,  and  lucidity  with 
which  he  sketched  a  plan  of  study  that  covered 
years. 

I  have  reason  to  be  grateful  to  this  great  schol- 
ar for  the  introduction  to  my  special  science,  but 
still  more  for  the  wisdom  with  which  he  pointed 
out  the  direction  of  my  studies.  Like  Jacob 
Grimm,  he  compelled  me,  as  an  Egyptologist,  to 
remain  in  connection  with  the  kindred  departments. 

Later  my  own  experience  was  to  teach  me  the 
correctness  of  his  assertion  that  it  would  be  a  mis- 
take to  commence  by  studying  so  restricted  a 
science  as  Egyptology. 

My  pupils  can  bear  witness  that  during  my  long 
period  of  teaching  I  always  strove  to  urge  students 
who  intended  to  devote  themselves  to  Egyptology 
first  to  strengthen  the  foundations,  without  which 
the  special  structure  lacks  support. 

Lepsius's  plan  of  instruction  provided  that  I 
should  follow  these  principles  from  the  beginning. 

The  task  I  had  to  perform  was  a  great   and 


332  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

difficult  one.  How  infinitely  easier  it  was  for  those 
whom  I  had  the  privilege  of  introducing  to  this 
science !  The  lecture-rooms  of  famous  teachers 
stood  open  to  them,  while  my  physical  condition 
kept  me  for  weeks  from  the  university  ;  and  how 
scanty  were  the  aids  to  which  the  student  could 
turn  !  *  Yet  the  zeal — nay,  the  enthusiasm — with 
which  I  devoted  myself  to  the  study  was  so  great 
that  it  conquered  every  difficulty. 

When  I  recall  the  amount  of  knowledge  I  mas- 
tered in  a  few  terms  it  seems  incredible ;  yet  my 
labour  was  interrupted  every  summer  by  a  sojourn 
at  the  springs — once  three  months,  and  never  for  a 
less  period  than  six  weeks.  True,  I  was  never 
wholly  idle  while  using  the  waters,  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  was  obliged  to  consider  the  danger 
that  in  winter  constantly  threatened  my  health. 
All  night-work  was  strictly  forbidden  and,  if  I  sat 
too  long  over  my  books  by  day,  my  mother  re- 


*  I  had  no  dictionary  and  no  grammar  for  the  hieroglyphic 
language  save  Champollion's.  No  Stern  had  treated  Coptic  in 
a  really  scientific  manner.  I  was  obliged  to  learn  it  according 
to  Tuki,  Peyron,  Tattam,  and  Steinthal-Schwarze.  For  the 
hieratic  there  was  no  aid  save  my  own  industry  and  the  lists 
I  had  myself  compiled  from  the  scanty  texts  then  at  the  disposal 
of  the  student.  Lepsius  had  never  devoted  much  time  to  them. 
Brugsch's  demotic  grammar  had  appeared,  but  its  use  was  ren- 
dered very  difficult  by  the  lack  of  conformity  between  the  type 
and  the  actual  signs. 


THE   APPRENTICESHIP. 


333 


minded  me  of  my  promise  to  the  doctor,  and  I  was 
obliged  to  stop. 

During  the  first  years  I  worked  almost  exclu- 
sively at  home,  for  I  was  permitted  to  go  out  only 
in  very  pleasant  weather. 

Dr.  Romberg  had  wisely  considered  my  reluc- 
tance to  interrupt  my  studies  by  a  residence  in  the 
south,  because  he  deemed  life  in  a  well-ordered 
household  more  beneficial  to  sufferers  from  spinal 
diseases  than  a  warmer  climate,  when  leaving 
home,  as  in  my  case,  threatened  to  disturb  the 
patient's  peace  of  mind. 

For  three  winters  I  had  been  denied  visiting  the 
university,  the  museum,  and  the  libraries.  On  the 
fourth  I  was  permitted  to  begin,  and  now,  with 
mature  judgment  and  thorough  previous  prepara- 
tion, I  attended  the  academic  lectures,  and  profited 
by  the  treasures  of  knowledge  and  rich  collections 
of  the  capital. 

After  my  return  from  Wildbad  Lepsius  con- 
tinued his  Thursday  visits,  and  during  the  succeed- 
ing winters  still  remained  my  guide,  even  when  I 
had  also  placed  myself,  in  the  department  of  the 
ancient  Egyptian  languages,  under  the  instruction 
of  Heinrich  Brugsch. 

At  school,  of  course,  I  had  not  thought  of 
studying  Hebrew.  Now  I  took  private  lessons  in 
that  language,  to  which  I  devoted  several  hours 
daily.  I  had  learned  to  read  Sanscrit  and  to 


334 


THE   STORY   OF    MY    LIFE. 


translate  easy  passages  in  the  chrestomathy,  and 
devoted  myself  with  special  zeal  to  the  study  of 
the  Latin  grammar  and  prosody.  Professor  Julius 
Geppert,  the  brother  of  our  most  intimate  family 
friend,  was  my  teacher  for  four  terms. 

The  syntax  of  the  classic  languages,  which  had 
been  my  weak  point  as  a  school-boy,  now  aroused 
the  deepest  interest,  and  I  was  grateful  to  Lepsius 
for  having  so  earnestly  insisted  upon  my  pursuing 
philology.  I  soon  felt  the  warmest  appreciation 
of  the  Roman  comedies,  which  served  as  the 
foundation  of  these  studies.  What  sound  wit,  what 
keenness  of  observation,  what  a  happy  gift  of  inven- 
tion, the  old  comic  writers  had  at  their  disposal !  I 
took  them  up  again  a  few  years  ago,  after  reading 
with  genuine  pleasure  in  Otto  Ribbeck's  master- 
piece, The  History  of  Roman  Poetry,  the  portions 
devoted  to  Plautus  and  Terence. 

The  types  of  character  found  in  these  comedies 
strengthened  my  conviction  that  the  motives  of 
human  actions  and  the  mental  and  emotional  pe- 
culiarities of  civilized  men  in  every  age  always 
have  been  and  always  will  be  the  same. 

With  what  pleasure,  when  again  permitted  to 
go  out  in  the  evening,  I  witnessed  the  performances 
of  Plautus's  pieces  given  by  Professor  Geppert's 
pupils  ! 

The  refreshed  and  enlarged  knowledge  of 
school  Latin  was  of  great  service  in  writing,  and 


THE   APPRENTICESHIP. 


335 


afterwards  discussing,  a  Latin  dissertation.  I  de- 
voted perhaps  a  still  larger  share  of  my  time  to 
Greek,  and,  as  the  fruit  of  these  studies,  still  pos- 
sess many  translations  from  Anacreon,  Sappho, 
and  numerous  fragments  from  the  Bergk  collec- 
tion of  Greek  lyrics,  but,  with  the  exception  of 
those  introduced  into  my  novels,  none  have  been 
printed. 

During  my  leisure  hours  translating  afforded 
me  special  pleasure.  An  exact  rendering  of  diffi- 
cult English  authors  soon  made  Shakespeare's 
language  in  both  prose  and  poetry  as  intelligible 
as  German  or  French. 

After  mastering  the  rules  of  grammar,  I  needed 
no  teacher  except  my  mother.  When  I  had 
conquered  the  first  difficulties  I  took  up  Tenny- 
son's Idyls  of  the  King,  and  at  last  succeeded  in 
translating  two  of  these  beautiful  poems  in  the 
metre  of  the  original. 

My  success  with  Enid  I  think  was  very  tol- 
erable. The  manuscript  still  lies  in  my  desk  un- 
published. 

As  I  was  now  engaged  in  studying  the  lan- 
guages I  easily  learned  to  read  Italian,  Spanish,  and 
Dutch  books. 

In  view  of  this  experience,  which  is  not  wholly 
personal,  I  have  wondered  whether  the  instruc- 
tion of  boys  might  not  be  shortened  to  give  them 
more  outdoor  exercise.  In  how  brief  a  time  the 


336  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

pupils,  as  men  studying  for  their  own  benefit,  not 
the  teacher's,  would  acquire  many  things! 

Besides  the  languages,  I  studied,  at  first  exclu- 
sively under  Lepsius's  thoroughly  admirable  in- 
struction, ancient  history  and  archaeology. 

Later  I  owed  most  to  Gerhard,  Droysen,  Fried- 
erichs,  and  August  Bcickh. 

A  kind  fate  afterwards  brought  me  into  per- 
sonal relations  with  the  latter,  whose  lectures  on 
the  Athenian  financial  system  were  the  finest  and 
the  most  instructive  I  have  ever  heard.  What 
clearness,  what  depth  of  learning,  what  a  subtle 
sense  of  humour  this  splendid  old  man  possessed  ! 
I  attended  his  lectures  in  1863,  and  how  exquisite 
were  the  allusions  to  the  by  no  means  satisfactory 
political  conditions  of  the  times  with  which  he 
spiced  them.  I  also  became  sincerely  attached  to 
Friederichs,  and  it  made  me  happy  to  be  able  to 
requite  him  in  some  small  degree  in  Egypt  for  the 
kindness  and  unselfishness  he  had  shown  me  in 
Berlin. 

Bopp's  lectures,  where  I  tried  to  increase  my 
meagre  knowledge  of  Sanscrit,  I  attended,  unfor- 
tunately, only  a  few  hours. 

The  lectures  of  the  African  traveller  Heinrich 
Barth  supplied  rich  sources  of  material,  but  who- 
ever expected  to  hear  bewitching  narratives  from 
him  would  have  been  disappointed.  Even  in  more 
intimate  intercourse  he  rarely  warmed  up  suffi- 


THE   APPRENTICESHIP. 


337 


ciently  to  let  others  share  the  rich  treasure  of  his 
knowledge  and  experience.  It  seemed  as  if,  dur- 
ing his  lonely  life  in  Africa,  he  had  lost  the  neces- 
sity of  exchanging  thoughts  with  his  fellow-men. 
During  this  late  period  Heinrich  Brugsch  devel- 
oped in  the  linguistic  department  of  Egyptology 
what  I  had  gained  from  Lepsius  and  by  my  own 
industry,  and  I  gladly  term  myself  his  pupil. 

I  have  cause  to  be  grateful  for  the  fresh  and 
helpful  way  in  which  this  great  and  tireless  investi- 
gator gave  me  a  private  lecture  ;  but  Lepsius  had 
opened  the  door  of  our  science,  and  though  he 
could  carry  me  only  to  a  certain  stage  in  the  gram- 
mar of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  in  other  departments 
I  owe  him  more  than  any  other  of  my  intellectual 
guides.  I  am  most  indebted  to  him  for  the  direc- 
tion to  use  historical  and  archaeological  authorities 
critically,  and  his  correction  of  the  tasks  he  set 
me;  but  our  conversations  on  archaeological  sub- 
jects have  also  been  of  the  greatest  interest. 

After  his  death  I  tried  to  return  in  some  small 
degree  what  his  unselfish  kindness  had  bestowed 
by  accepting  the  invitation  to  become  his  biogra- 
pher. In  "  Richard  Lepsius,"  I  describe  reverently 
but  without  deviating  one  step  from  the  truth,  this 
wonderful  scholar,  who  was  a  faithful  and  always 
affectionate  friend. 

I  can  scarcely  believe  it  possible  that  the  digni- 
fied man,  with  the  grave,  stern,  clear-cut,  scholarly 


338  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

face  and  snow-white  hair,  was  but  forty-five  years 
old  when  he  began  to  direct  my  studies;  for,  spite 
of  his  erect  bearing  and  alert  movements,  he 
seemed  to  me  at  that  time  a  venerable  old  man. 
There  was  something  in  the  aristocratic  reserve  of 
his  nature  and  the  cool,  penetrating  sharpness  of 
his  criticism,  which  is  usually  found  only  in  men  of 
more  mature  years.  I  should  have  supposed  him 
incapable  of  any  heedless  word,  any  warm  emotion, 
until  I  afterwards  met  him  under  his  own  roof  and 
enjoyed  the  warm-hearted  cheerfulness  of  the 
father  of  the  family  and  the  graciousness  of  the 
host. 

It  certainly  was  not  the  cool,  calculating  rea- 
son, but  the  heart,  which  had  urged  him  to  devote 
so  many  hours  of  his  precious  time  to  the  young 
follower  of  his  science. 

Heinrich  Brugsch,  my  second  teacher,  was  far 
superior  to  Lepsius  as  a  decipherer  and  investiga- 
tor of  the  various  stages  of  the  ancient  Egyptian 
languages.  Two  natures  more  totally  unlike  can 
scarcely  be  imagined. 

Brugsch  was  a  man  of  impulse,  who  maintained 
his  cheerfulness  even  when  life  showed  him  its 
serious  side.  Then,  as  now,  he  devoted  himself 
with  tireless  energy  to  hard  work.  In  this  respect 
he  resembled  Lepsius,  with  whom  he  had  other 
traits  in  common — first,  a  keen  sense  of  order  in 
the  collection  and  arrangement  of  the  abundant 


THE   APPRENTICESHIP. 


339 


store  of  scientific  material  at  his  disposal ;  and,  sec- 
ondly, the  circumstance  that  Alexander  von  Hum- 
boldt  had  smoothed  the  beginning  of  the  career  of 
investigation  for  both.  The  attention  of  this  great 
scholar  and  influential  man  had  been  attracted  by 
Brugsch's  first  Egyptological  works,  which  he  had 
commenced  before  he  left  school,  and  his  keen 
eye  recognized  their  value  as  well  as  the  genius  of 
their  author.  As  soon  as  he  began  to  win  renown 
Humboldt  extended  his  powerful  protection  to 
him,  and  induced  his  friend,  the  king,  to  afford  him 
means  for  continuing  his  education  in  Paris  and 
for  a  journey  to  Europe. 

Though  it  was  Bunsen  who  first  induced  Lep- 
sius  to  devote  himself  to  Egyptology,  that  he  might 
systematize  the  science  and  prune  with  the  knife  of 
philological  and  historical  criticism  the  shoots  which 
grew  so  wildly  after  Champollion's  death,  Hum- 
boldt had  opened  the  paths  to  learning  which  in 
Paris  were  closed  to  the  foreigner. 

Finally,  it  was  the  great  naturalist  who  had  lent 
the  aid  of  his  powerful  influence  with  Frederick 
William  IV  to  the  enterprise  supported  by  Bunsen 
of  an  expedition  to  Egypt  under  the  direction  of 
Lepsius.  But  for  the  help  of  the  most  influential 
man  of  his  day  it  would  have  been  difficult — nay, 
perhaps  impossible — to  obtain  for  themselves  and 
German  investigation  the  position  which,  thanks  to 
their  labour,  it  now  occupies. 


340  THE  STORY  OF    MY   LIFE. 

I  had  the  privilege  of  meeting  Alexander  von 
Humboldt  at  a  small  dinner  party,  and  his  image  is 
vividly  imprinted  on  my  memory.  He  was  at  that 
time  far  beyond  the  span  of  life  usually  allotted  to 
man,  and  what  I  heard  him  say  was  hardly  worth 
retaining,  for  it  related  to  the  pleasures  of  the  ta- 
ble, ladies'  toilettes,  court  gossip,  etc.  When  he 
afterwards  gave  me  his  hand  I  noticed  the  numer- 
ous blue  veins  which  covered  it  like  a  network.  It 
was  not  until  later  that  I  learned  how  many  impor- 
tant enterprises  that  delicate  hand  had  aided. 

Heinrich  Brugsch  is  still  pursuing  with  fresh 
creative  power  the  profession  of  Egyptological  re- 
search. The  noble,  simple-hearted  woman  who  was 
so  proud  of  her  son's  increasing  renown,  his  moth- 
er, died  long  ago.  She  modestly  admired  his  great- 
ness, yet  his  shrewdness,  capacity  for  work,  and 
happy  nature  were  a  heritage  from  her. 

Heinrich  Brugsch's  instruction  extended  beyond 
the  actual  period  of  teaching. 

With  the  commencement  of  convalescence  and 
the  purposeful  industry  which  then  began,  a  time 
of  happiness  dawned  for  me.  The  mental  calmness 
felt  by  every  one  who,  secluded  from  the  tumult  of 
the  world,  as  I  was  at  that  time,  devotes  himself  to 
the  faithful  fulfilment  of  duty,  rendered  it  compar- 
atively easy  for  me  to  accommodate  myself  patient- 
ly to  a  condition  which  a  short  time  before  would 
have  seemed  insupportable. 


THE  APPRENTICESHIP. 


341 


True,  I  was  forced  to  dispense  with  the  com- 
panionship of  gay  associates  of  my  own  age.  At 
first  many  members  of  my  old  corps,  who  were 
studying  in  Berlin,  sought  me,  but  gradually  their 
places  were  filled  by  other  friends. 

The  dearest  of  these  was  Dr.  Adolf  Baeyer,  son 
of  the  General.  He  is  now  one  of  the  leaders  in 
his  chosen  science,  chemistry,  and  is  Justus  Lie- 
big's  successor  in  the  Munich  University. 

My  second  friend  was  a  young  Pole  who  de- 
voted himself  eagerly  to  Egyptology,  and  whom 
Lepsius  had  introduced  as  a  professional  comrade. 
He  called  me  Georg  and  I  him  Mieczy  (his  name 
was  Mieczyslaw). 

So,  during  those  hard  winters,  I  did  not  lack 
friendship.  But  they  also  wove  into  my  life  some- 
thing else  which  lends  their  memory  a  melancholy 
charm. 

The  second  daughter  of  my  mother's  Belgian 
niece,  who  had  married  in  Berlin  the  architect  Fritz 
Hitzig,  afterwards  President  of  the  Academy  of 
Arts,  was  named  Eugenie  and  nicknamed  "  Nenny." 

If  ever  any  woman  fulfilled  the  demands  of  the 
fairy  tale,  "  White  as  snow  and  black  as  ebony,"  it 
was  she.  Only  the  "  red  as  blood  "  was  lacking, 
for  usually  but  a  faint  roseate  hue  tinged  her  cheeks. 
Her  large  blue  eyes  had  an  innocent,  dreamy,  half- 
melancholy  expression,  which  I  was  not  the  only 
person  who  found  unspeakably  charming.  After- 


342  THE  STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

wards  it  seemed  to  me,  in  recalling  her  look,  that  she 
beheld  the  fair  boy  Death,  whose  lowered  torch  she 
was  so  soon  to  follow. 

About  the  time  that  I  returned  to  Berlin  seri- 
ously ill  she  had  just  left  boarding-school,  and  it 
is  difficult  to  describe  the  impression  she  made  when 
I  saw  her  for  the  first  time ;  yet  I  found  in  the  open- 
ing rose  all  that  had  lent  the  bud  so  great  a  charm. 

I  am  not  writing  a  romance,  and  shall  not  per- 
mit the  heart  to  beautify  or  transfigure  the  image 
memory  retains,  yet  I  can  assert  that  Nenny  lacked 
nothing  which  art  and  poesy  attribute  to  the  women 
who  allegorically  personate  the  magic  of  Nature  or 
the  fairest  emotions  and  ideals  of  the  human  soul. 
In  this  guise  poet,  sculptor,  or  artist  might  have 
represented  Imagination,  the  Fairy  Tale,  Lyric  Po- 
etry, the  Dream,  or  Compassion. 

The  wealth  of  raven  hair,  the  delicate  lines  of 
the  profile,  the  scarlet  lips,  the  pearly  teeth,  the 
large,  long-lashed  blue  eyes,  whose  colour  formed  a 
startling  contrast  to  the  dark  hair,  the  slender  lit- 
tle hands  and  dainty  feet,  united  to  form  a  beauty 
whose  equal  Nature  rarely  produces.  And  this  fair 
body  contained  a  tender,  loving,  pure,  childlike 
heart,  which  longed  for  higher  gifts  than  human  life 
can  bestow. 

Thus  she  appeared  before  me  like  an  apparition 
from  a  world  opened  only  to  the  poet.  She  came 
often,  for  she  loved  my  mother,  and  rarely  ap- 


THE   APPRENTICESHIP. 


343 


preached  my  couch  without  a  flower,  a  picture 
which  pleased  her,  or  a  book  containing  a  poem 
which  she  valued. 

When  she  entered  I  felt  as  if  happiness  came 
with  her.  Doubtless  my  eyes  betrayed  this  dis- 
tinctly enough,  though  I  forced  my  lips  to  silence; 
for  what  love  had  she,  before  whom  life  was  open- 
ing like  a  path  through  a  blooming  garden,  to  be- 
stow on  the  invalid  cousin  who  was  probably  des- 
tined to  an  early  death,  and  certainly  to  many  a 
year  of  illness  ?  At  our  first  meeting  I  felt  that  I 
loved  her,  but  for  that  very  reason  I  desired  to  con- 
ceal it. 

I  had  grown  modest.  It  was  enough  for  me  to 
gaze  at  her,  hear  her  dear  voice,  and  sometimes — 
she  was  my  cousin — clasp  her  little  hand. 

Science  was  now  the  object  of  my  devotion. 
My  intellect,  passion,  and  fire  were  all  hers.  A 
kind  fortune  seemed  to  send  me  Nenny  in  order  to 
bestow  a  gift  also  upon  the  heart,  the  soul,  the 
sense  of  beauty. 

This  state  of  affairs  could  not  last;  for  no  duty 
commanded  her  to  share  the  conflict  raging  within 
me,  and  a  day  came  when  I  learned  from  her  own 
lips  that  she  loved  me,  that  her  heart  had  been  mine 
when  she  was  a  little  school-girl,  that  during  my  ill- 
ness she  had  never  wearied  of  praying  for  me,  and 
had  wept  all  night  long  when  the  physician  told  her 
mother  of  the  danger  in  which  I  stood. 
23 


344  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

This  confession  sounded  like  angel  voices.  It 
made  me  infinitely  happy,  yet  I  had  strength  to  en- 
treat Nenny  to  treasure  this  blissful  hour  with  me 
as  the  fairest  jewel  of  our  lives,  and  then  help  me 
to  fulfil  the  duty  of  parting  from  her. 

But  she  took  a  different  view  of  the  future.  It 
was  enough  for  her  to  know  that  my  heart  was  hers. 
If  I  died  young,  she  would  follow  me. 

And  now  the  devout  child,  who  firmly  believed 
in  a  meeting  after  death  face  to  face,  permitted  me 
a  glimpse  of  the  wondrous  world  in  which  she  hoped 
to  have  her  portion  after  the  end  here. 

1  listened  in  astonishment,  with  sincere  emotion. 
This  was  the  faith  which  moved  mountains,  which 
brings  heaven  itself  to  earth. 

Afterwards  I  again  beheld  the  eyes  with  which, 
gazing  into  vacancy,  she  tried  to  conjure  up  before 
my  soul  these  visions  of  hope  from  the  realm  of  her 
fairest  dreams — they  were  those  of  Raphael's  Saint 
Cecilia  in  Bologna  and  Munich.  I  also  saw  them 
long  after  Nenny's  death  in  one  of  Murillo's  Ma- 
donnas in  Seville,  and  even  now  they  rise  distinctly 
before  my  memory. 

To  disturb  this  childish  faith  or  check  the  im- 
agination winged  by  this  devout  enthusiasm  would 
have  seemed  to  me  actually  criminal.  And  I  was 
young.  Even  the  suffering  I  had  endured  had  nei- 
ther silenced  the  yearning  voice  of  my  heart  nor 
cooled  the  warmth  of  my  blood.  I,  who  had  be- 


THE   APPRENTICESHIP. 

lieved  that  the  garden  of  love  was  forever  closed 
against  me,  was  beloved  by  the  most  beautiful  girl, 
who  was  even  dearer  to  me  than  life,  and  with  new 
hope,  which  Nenny's  faith  in  God's  goodness  be- 
dewed with  warm  spring  rain,  I  enjoyed  this  hap- 
piness. 

Yet  conscience  could  not  be  silenced.  The  warn- 
ing voice  of  my  mother,  to  whom  I  had  opened  my 
heart,  sharpened  the  admonitions  of  mine ;  and  when 
Wildbad  brought  me  only  relief,  by  no  means  com- 
plete recovery,  I  left  the  decision  to  the  physician. 
It  was  strongly  adverse.  Under  the  most  favour- 
able circumstances  years  must  pass  ere  I  should  be 
justified  in  binding  any  woman's  fate  to  mine. 

So  this  beginning  of  a  beautiful  and  serious  love 
story  became  a  swiftly  passing  dream.  Its  course 
had  been  happy,  but  the  end  dealt  my  heart  a  blow 
which  healed  very  slowly.  It  opened  afresh  when 
in  her  parents'  house,  where  during  my  convales- 
cence I  was  a  frequent  guest,  I  myself  advised  her 
to  marry  a  young  land-owner,  who  eagerly  wooed 
her.  She  became  his  wife,  but  only  a  year  later 
entered  that  other  world  which  she  had  regarded 
as  her  true  home  even  while  here.  Her  beloved 
image  occupies  the  most  sacred  place  in  the  shrine 
of  my  memory. 

I  denied  myself  the  pleasure  of  introducing  her 
character  in  one  of  my  novels,  for  I  felt  that  if  I 
should  succeed  in  limning  it  faithfully  the  modern 


346  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

reader  would  be  justified  in  considering  her  an  im- 
possible figure  for  our  days.  She  would  perhaps 
have  suited  a  fairy  tale ;  and  when  I  created 
Bianca  in  The  Elixir  I  gave  her  Nenny's  form. 
The  gratitude  which  I  owe  her  will  accompany  me 
to  my  life's  end,  for  it  was  she  who  brought  to  my 
sick-room  the  blue  sky,  sunlight,  and  the  thousand 
gifts  of  a  blooming  Garden  of  Eden. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

THE   SUMMERS    OF    MY    CONVALESCENCE. 

WHILE  I  spent  the  winters  in  my  mother's  house 
in  industrious  work  and  pleasant  social  life,  the 
summers  took  me  out  of  the  city  into  the  open  air. 
I  always  went  first  with  my  faithful  nurse  and 
companion  to  Wildbad  ;  the  remainder  of  the  warm 
season  I  spent  on  the  Elbe,  sometimes  with  my 
mother,  sometimes  with  my  aunt. 

I  used  the  Wildbad  springs  in  all  seventeen 
times.  For  two  summers,  aided  by  a  servant,  I 
descended  from  a  wheel-chair  into  the  warm  water ; 
in  the  third  I  could  dispense  with  assistance;  and 
from  the  fourth  for  several  lustra  I  moved  un- 
checked with  a  steady  step.  After  a  long  interval, 
owing  to  a  severe  relapse  of  the  apparently  con- 
quered disease,  I  returned  to  them. 


SUMMERS  OF  CONVALESCENCE.  347 

The  Wurtemberg  Wildbad  is  one  of  the  oldest 
cures  in  Germany.  The  legend  of  the  Count  Wur- 
temberg, who  discovered  its  healing  powers  by 
seeing  a  wild  boar  go  down  to  the  warm  spring  to 
wash  its  wound,  has  been  rendered  familiar  by 
Uhland  to  every  German.  Ulrich  von  Hutten  also 
used  it.  It  rises  in  a  Black  Forest  valley  inclosed 
by  stately  mountains,  a  little  stream,  the  Enz, 
crystal  clear,  and  abounding  in  trout. 

The  small  town  on  both  banks  of  the  river  ex- 
pands, ere  the  Enz  loses  itself  in  the  leafage,  into 
the  Kurplatz,  where  one  stately  building  of  light- 
red  sandstone  adjoins  another.  The  little  white 
church  stands  at  the  left.  But  the  foil,  the  back- 
ground for  everything,  is  the  beautiful  foliage, 
which  is  as  beneficial  to  the  eyes  as  are  the  springs 
to  the  suffering  body.  This  fountain  of  health  has 
special  qualities.  The  Swabian  says,  "Just  right, 
like  Wildbad."  It  gushes  just  the  right  degree  of 
heat  for  the  bath  from  the  gravelly  sand.  After 
bathing  early  in  the  morning  I  rested  an  hour, 
and  when  I  rose  obeyed  any  other  directions  of 
the  physician  in  charge  of  the  watering-place. 

The  remainder  of  the  day,  if  the  weather  was 
pleasant,  I  spent  out  of  doors,  usually  in  the 
grounds  under  the  leafy  trees  and  groups  of  shrubs 
on  the  shore  of  the  Enz.  On  the  bank  of  the  clear 
little  stream  stood  a  wooden  arbour,  where  the  mur- 
mur of  the  waves  rippling  over  the  mossy  granite 


348  THE   STORY  OF    MY   LIFE. 

blocks  invited  dreams  and  meditation.  During 
my  whole  sojourn  in  Wildbad  I  always  passed  sev- 
eral hours  a  day  here.  During  my  period  of  in- 
struction I  was  busied  with  grammatical  studies  in 
ancient  Egyptian  text  or  archaeological  works. 
In  after  years,  instead  of  Minerva,  I  summoned 
the  muse  and  committed  to  paper  the  thoughts  and 
images  which  had  been  created  in  my  mind  at 
home.  I  wrote  here  the  greater  portion  of  An 
Egyptian  Princess,  and  afterwards  many  a  chapter 
of  Uarda,  Homo  Sum,  and  other  novels. 

I  was  rarely  interrupted,  for  the  report  had 
spread  that  I  wished  to  be  alone  while  at  work ; 
yet  even  the  first  year  I  did  not  lack  acquaintances. 

Even  during  our  first  stay  at  Wildbad,  which, 
with  the  Hirsau  interruption,  lasted  more  than 
three  months,  my  mother  had  formed  an  intimate 
friendship  with  Frau  von  Burckhardt,  in  which  I 
too  was  included.  The  lady  possessed  rare  tact 
in  harmonizing  the  very  diverse  elements  which 
her  husband,  the  physician  in  charge,  brought  to 
her.  Every  one  felt  at  ease  in  her  house  and  found 
congenial  society  there.  So  it  happened  that  for 
a  long  time  the  Villa  Burckhardt  was  the  rendez- 
vous of  the  most  eminent  persons  who  sought  the 
healing  influence  of  the  Wildbad  spring.  Next  to 
this,  it  was  the  Burckhardts  who  constantly  drew 
us  back  to  the  Enz. 

Were  I  to  number  the  persons  whom  I  met  here 


SUMMERS   OF   CONVALESCENCE. 


349 


and  whose  acquaintanceship  I  consider  a  benefit, 
the  list  would  be  a  long  one.  Some  I  shall  men- 
tion later.  The  first  years  we  saw  most  frequent- 
ly the  song-writer  Silcher,  from  Tubingen,  Justus 
von  Liebig,  the  Munich  zoologist  von  Siebold,  the 
Belgian  artist  Louis  Gallait,  the  author  Moritz 
Hartmann,  Gervinus,  and,  lastly,  the  wife  of  the 
Stuttgart  publisher  Eduard  Hallberger,  and  the 
never-to-be-forgotten  Frau  Puricelli  and  her 
daughter  Jenny. 

Silcher,  an  unusually  attractive  old  man,  joined 
us  frequently.  No  other  composer's  songs  found 
their  way  so  surely  to  the  hearts  of  the  people. 
Many,  as  "  I  know  not  what  it  means,"  "  I  must  go 
hence  to-morrow,"  are  supposed  to  be  folk-songs. 
It  was  a  real  pleasure  to  hear  him  sing  them  in  our 
little  circle  in  his  weak  old  voice.  He  was  then 
seventy,  but  his  freshness  and  vivacity  made  him 
appear  younger.  The  chivalrous  courtesy  he 
showed  to  all  ladies  was  wonderfully  winning. 

Justus  Liebig's  manners  were  no  less  attractive, 
but  in  him  genuine  amiability  was  united  to  the 
elegance  of  the  man  of  the  world  who  had  long 
been  one  of  the  most  distinguished  scholars  of  his 
day.  He  must  have  been  remarkably  handsome 
in  his  youth,  and  though  at  that  time  past  fifty, 
the  delicate  outlines  of  his  profile  were  wholly 
unmarred. 

Conversation  with  him  was  always  profitable. 


350  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

and  the  ease  with  which  he  made  subjects  farthest 
from  his  own  sphere  of  investigation — chemistry — 
perfectly  clear  was  unique  in  its  way.  Unfor- 
tunately, I  have  been  denied  any  deeper  insight 
into  the  science  which  he  so  greatly  advanced,  but 
I  still  remember  how  thoroughly  I  understood  him 
when  he  explained  some  results  of  agricultural 
chemistry.  He  eagerly  endeavoured  to  dissuade 
the  gentlemen  of  his  acquaintance  from  smoking 
after  dinner,  which  he  had  found  by  experiment  to 
be  injurious. 

For  several  weeks  we  played  whist  with  him  ev- 
ery evening,  for  Liebig,'like  so  many  other  schol- 
ars, regarded  card-playing  as  the  best  recreation 
after  severe  tension  of  the  mind.  During  the 
pauses  and  the  supper  which  interrupted  the  game, 
he  told  us  many  things  of  former  times.  Once  he 
even  spoke  of  his  youth  .and  the  days  which  de- 
termined his  destiny.  The  following  event  seems 
to  me  especially  worth  recording. 

When  a  young  and  wholly  unknown  student  he 
had  gone  to  Paris  to  bring  his  discovery  of  ful- 
minic  acid  to  the  notice  of  the  Academy.  On  one 
of  the  famous  Tuesdays  he  had  waited  vainly  for 
the  introduction  of  his  work,  and  at  the  close  of 
the  session  he  rose  sadly  to  leave  the  hall,  when 
an  elderly  academician  in  whose  hand  he  thought 
he  had  seen  his  treatise  addressed  a  few  words 
to  him  concerning  his  discovery  in  very  fluent 


SUMMERS  OF   CONVALESCENCE.  351 

French  and  invited  him  to  dine  the  following 
Thursday. 

Then  the  stranger  suddenly  disappeared,  and 
Liebig,  with  the  painful  feeling  of  being  consid- 
ered a  very  uncivil  fellow,  was  obliged  to  let  the 
Thursday  pass  without  accepting  the  invitation  so 
important  to  him.  But  on  Saturday  some  one 
knocked  at  the  door  of  his  modest  little  room  and 
introduced  himself  as  Alexander  von  Humboldt's 
valet.  He  had  been  told  to  spare  no  trouble  in 
the  search,  for  the  absence  of  his  inexperienced 
countryman  from  the  dinner  which  would  have  en- 
abled him  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  leaders 
of  his  science  in  Paris  had  not  only  been  noticed 
by  Humboldt,  but  had  filled  him  with  anxiety. 
When  Liebig  went  that  very  day  to  his  kind  patron 
he  was  received  at  first  with  gay  jests,  afterwards 
with  the  kindest  sympathy. 

The  great  naturalist  had  read  his  paper  and 
perceived  the  writer's  future  promise.  He  at  once 
made  him  acquainted  with  Gay  Lussac,  the  famous 
Parisian  chemist,  and  Liebig  was  thus  placed  on 
the  road  to  the  lofty  position  which  he  was  after- 
wards to  occupy  in  all  the  departments  of  science. 

The  Munich  zoologist  von  Siebold  we  first 
knew  intimately  years  after.  I  shall  have  more  to 
say  of  him  later,  and  also  of  the  historian  Gervinus, 
who,  behind  apparently  repellant  arrogance,  con- 
cealed the  noblest  human  benevolence. 


352  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

After  the  first  treatment,  which  occupied  six 
weeks,  the  physician  ordered  an  intermission  of 
the  baths.  I  was  to  leave  Wildbad  to  strengthen 
in  the  pure  air  of  the  Black  Forest  the  health  I 
had  gained.  On  the  Enz  we  had  been  in  the  midst 
of  society.  The  new  residence  was  to  afford  me 
an  opportunity  to  lead  a  lonely,  quiet  life  with  my 
mother  and  my  books,  which  latter,  however,  were 
only  to  be  used  in  moderation. 

Shortly  before  our  departure  we  had  taken  a 
longer  drive  with  our  new  friends  Frau  Puricelli 
and  her  daughter  Jenny  to  the  Hirsau  cloister. 

The  daughter  specially  attracted  me.  She  was 
pretty,  well  educated,  and  possessed  so  much  in- 
dependence and  keenness  of  mind  that  this  alone 
would  have  sufficed  to  render  her  remarkable. 

Afterwards  I  often  thought  simultaneously  of 
her  and  Nenny,  yet  they  were  totally  unlike  in 
character,  having  nothing  in  common  save  their 
steadfast  faith  and  the  power  of  looking  with  happy 
confidence  beyond  this  life  into  death. 

The  devout  Protestant  had  created  a  religion 
of  her  own,  in  which  everything  that  she  loved  and 
which  she  found  beautiful  and  sacred  had  a  place. 

Jenny's  imagination  was  no  less  vivid,  but  she 
used  it  merely  to  behold  in  the  form  most  conge- 
nial to  her  nature  and  sense  of  beauty  what  faith 
commanded  her  to  accept.  For  Jenny  the  Church 
had  already  devised  and  arranged  what  Nenny's 


SUMMERS   OF  CONVALESCENCE. 


353 


poetic  soul  created.  The  Protestant  had  suc- 
ceeded in  blending  Father  and  Son  into  one  in 
order  to  pray  to  love  itself.  The  Catholic,  besides 
the  Holy  Trinity,  had  made  the  Virgin  Mother  the 
embodiment  of  the  feeling  dearest  to  her  girlish 
heart  and  bestowed  on  her  the  form  of  the  person 
whom  she  loved  best  on  earth,  and  regarded  as  the 
personification  of  everything  good  and  beautiful. 
This  was  her  older  sister  Fanny,  who  had  married 
a  few  years  before  a  cousin  of  the  same  name. 

When  she  at  last  appeared  I  was  surprised,  for 
I  had  never  met  a  woman  who  combined  with  such 
rare  beauty  and  queenly  dignity  so  much  winning 
amiability.  Nothing  could  be  more  touching  than 
the  manner  in  which  this  admired,  brilliant  woman 
of  the  world  devoted  herself  to  the  sick  girl. 

This  lady  was  present  during  our  conversations, 
which  often  turned  upon  religious  questions. 

At  first  I  had  avoided  the  subject,  but  the  young 
girl  constantly  returned  to  it,  and  I  soon  perceived 
that  I  must  summon  all  my  energies  to  hold  my 
ground  against  her  subtle  dialectics.  Once  when 
I  expressed  my  scruples  to  her  sister,  she  answered, 
smiling:  "  Don't  be  uneasy  on  that  score;  Jenny's 
armour  is  strong,  but  she  has  sharp  arrows  in  her 
quiver." 

And  so  indeed  it  proved. 

She  felt  so  sure  of  her  own  convictions  that 
she  might  investigate  without  peril  the  views  of 


354 


THE   STORY   OF   MY    LIFE. 


those  who  held  a  different  belief,  and  beheld  in  me, 
as  it  were,  the  embodiment  of  this  opportunity,  so 
she  gave  me  no  peace  until  I  had  explained  the 
meaning  of  the  words  pantheism,  atheism,  materi- 
alism, etc. 

At  first  I  was  very  cautious,  but  when  I  per- 
ceived that  the  opinions  of  the  doubters  and  deni- 
ers  merely  inspired  her  with  pity,  I  spoke  more 
freely. 

Her  soul  was  like  a  polished  plate  of  metal  on 
which  a  picture  is  etched.  This,  her  belief,  re- 
mained uninjured.  Whatever  else  might  be  re- 
flected from  the  mirror-like  surface  soon  vanished, 
leaving  no  trace. 

The  young  girl  died  shortly  after  our  separation 
the  following  year.  She  had  grown  very  dear  to 
my  heart.  Her  beloved  image  appears  to  me  most 
frequently  as  she  looked  in  the  days  when  she  was 
suffering,  with  thick,  fair  hair  falling  in  silken  masses 
on  her  white  dress,  but  amid  keen  physical  pain 
the  love  of  pleasure  natural  to  youth  still  lingered. 
She  went  with  me — both  in  wheel-chairs — to  a  ball 
at  the  Kursaal,  and  looked  so  pretty  in  an  airy, 
white  dress  which  her  mother  and  sister  had  ar- 
ranged for  their  darling,  that  I  should  have  longed 
to  dance  with  her  had  not  this  pleasure  been  de- 
nied me. 

Hirsau  had  first  been  suggested  as  a  resting- 
place,  but  it  was  doubtful  whether  we  should  find 


SUMMERS  OF  CONVALESCENCE.  355 

what  we  needed  there.  If  not,  the  carriage  was  to 
convey  us  to  beautiful,  quiet  Herrenalb,  between 
Wildbad  and  Baden-Baden. 

But  we  found  what  we  sought,  the  most  suit- 
able house  possible,  whose  landlady  proved  to  have 
been  trained  as  a  cook  in  a  Frankfort  hotel. 

The  lodgings  we  engaged  were  among  the  most 
"  romantic  "  I  have  ever  occupied,  for  our  land- 
lord's house  was  built  in  the  ruins  of  the  monastery 
just  beside  the  old  refectory.  The  windows  of  one 
room  looked  out  upon  the  cloisters  and  the  Virgin's 
chapel,  the  only  part  of  the  once  stately  building 
spared  by  the  French  in  1692. 

A  venerable  abode  of  intellectual  life  was  de- 
stroyed with  this  monastery,  founded  by  a  Count 
von  Calw  early  in  the  ninth  century.  The  tower 
which  has  been  preserved  is  one  of  the  oldest  and 
most  interesting  works  of  Romanesque  architecture 
in  Germany. 

A  quieter  spot  cannot  be  imagined,  for  I  was  the 
first  who  sought  recreation  here.  Surrounded  by 
memories  of  olden  days,  and  absolutely  undisturbed, 
I  could  create  admirably.  But  one  cannot  remain 
permanently  secluded  from  mankind. 

First  came  the  Herr  Kameralverwalter,  whose 
stately  residence  stood  near  the  monastery,  and  in 
his  wife's  name  invited  us  to  use  their  pretty 
garden. 

This  gentleman's  title  threw  his  name  so  far  into 


356  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

the  shade  that  I  had  known  the  pleasant  couple 
five  weeks  before  I  found  it  was  Belfinger. 

We  also  made  the  acquaintance  of  our  host, 
Herr  Meyer.  Strange  and  varied  were  the  paths 
along  which  Fate  had  led  this  man.  As  a  rich 
bachelor  he  had  welcomed  guests  to  his  ever-open 
house  with  salvos  of  artillery,  and  hence  was  still 
called  Cannon  Meyer,  though,  after  having  squan- 
dered his  patrimony,  he  remained  absent  from  his 
home  for  many  years.  His  career  in  America  was 
one  of  perpetual  vicissitudes  and  full  of  adven- 
tures. More  than  once  he  barely  escaped  death. 
At  last,  conquered  by  homesickness,  he  returned 
to  the  Black  Forest,  and  with  a  good,  industrious 
wife. 

His  house  in  the  monastery  suited  his  longing 
for  rest ;  he  obtained  a  position  in  the  morocco  fac- 
tory in  the  valley  below,  which  afforded  him  a  sup- 
port, and  his  daughters  provided  for  his  physical 
comfort. 

The  big,  broad-shouldered  man  with  the  huge 
mustache  and  deep,  bass  voice  looked  like  some 
grey-haired  knight  whose  giant  arm  could  have 
dealt  that  Swabian  stroke  which  cleft  the  foe  from 
skull  to  saddle,  and  yet  at  that  time  he  was  occu- 
pied from  morning  until  night  in  the  delicate  work 
of  splitting  the  calf  skin  from  whose  thin  surfaces, 
when  divided  into  two  portions,  fine  morocco  is 
made. 


SUMMERS   OF   CONVALESCENCE. 


357 


We  also  met  the  family  of  Herr  Zahn,  in  whose 
factory  this  leather  was  manufactured;  and  when  in 
the  East  I  saw  red,  yellow,  and  green  slippers  on 
the  feet  of  so  many  Moslems,  I  could  not  help  think- 
ing of  the  shady  Black  Forest. 

Sometimes  we  drove  to  the  little  neighbouring 
town  of  Calw,  where  we  were  most  kindly  re- 
ceived. The  mornings  were  uninterrupted,  and  my 
work  was  very  successful.  Afternoon  sometimes 
brought  visitors  from  Wildbad,  among  whom  was 
the  artist  Gallait,  who  with  his  wife  and  two  young 
daughters  had  come  to  use  the  water  of  the  springs. 
His  paintings,  "  Egmont  in  Prison,"  "  The  Beheaded 
Counts  Egmont  and  Horn,"  and  many  others,  had 
aroused  the  utmost  admiration.  Praise  and  hon- 
ours of  all  kinds  had  consequently  been  lavished 
upon  him.  This  had  brought  him  to  the  Spree, 
and  he  had  often  been  a  welcome  guest  in  our 
home. 

Like  Menzel,  Cornelius,  Alma  Tadema,  and  Meis- 
sonier,  he  was  small  in  stature,  but  the  features  of 
his  well-formed  face  were  anything  but  insignifi- 
cant. His  whole  person  was  distinguished  by  some- 
thing I  might  term  "neatness."  Without  any  touch 
of  dudishness  he  gave  the  impression  of  having 
"  just  stepped  out  of  a  bandbox."  From  the  white 
cravat  which  he  always  wore,  to  the  little  red  rib- 
bon of  the  order  in  his  buttonhole,  everything  about 
him  was  faultless. 


358  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

Madame  Gallait,  a  Parisian  by  birth,  was  the 
very  embodiment  of  the  French  woman  in  the  most 
charming  sense  of  the  word,  and  the  bond  which 
united  her  to  her  husband  seemed  enduring  and  as 
if  woven  by  the  cheeriest  gods  of  love.  Unfortu- 
nately, it  did  not  last. 

After  leaving  Hirsau,  we  again  met  the  Gallaits 
in  Wildbad  and  spent  some  delightful  days  with 
them.  The  Von  Burckhardts,  Frau  Henrietta  Hall- 
berger,  the  wife  of  the  Stuttgart  publisher,  the  Puri- 
cellis,  ourselves,  and  later  the  author  Moritz  Hart- 
mann,  were  the  only  persons  with  whom  they  asso- 
ciated. We  always  met  every  afternoon  at  a  certain 
place  in  the  grounds,  where  we  talked  or  some  one 
read  aloud.  On  these  occasions,  at  Gallait's  sug- 
gestion, everybody  who  was  so  disposed  sketched. 
My  portrait,  which  he  drew  for  my  mother  at  that 
time  in  black  and  red  pencils,  is  now  in  my  wife's 
possession.  I  also  took  my  sketch-book,  for  he  had 
seen  the  school  volume  I  had  filled  with  arabesques 
just  before  leaving  Keilhau,  and  I  still  remember 
the  merveilleux  and  incrnyable,  inoui,  and  insens<? which 
he  lavished  on  the  certainly  extravagant  creatures 
of  my  love-sick  imagination. 

During  these  exercises  in  drawing  he  related 
many  incidents  of  his  own  life,  and  never  was  he 
more  interesting  than  while  describing  his  first 
success. 

He  was  the  son  of  a  poor  widow  in  the  little 


SUMMERS  OF  CONVALESCENCE.  359 

Belgian  town  of  Tournay.  While  a  school-boy  he 
greatly  enjoyed  drawing,  and  an  able  teacher  per- 
ceived his  talent. 

Once  he  saw  in  the  newspaper  an  Antwerp  com- 
petition for  a  prize.  A  certain  subject — if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  Moses  drawing  water  from  the  rock  in 
the  wilderness — was  to  be  executed  with  pencil  or 
charcoal.  He  went  to  work  also,  though  with  his 
defective  training  he  had  not  the  least  hope  of  suc- 
cess. When  he  sent  off  the  finished  drawing  he 
avoided  taking  his  mother  into  his  confidence  in 
order  to  protect  her  from  disappointment. 

On  the  day  the  prize  was  to  be  awarded  the 
wish  to  see  the  work  of  the  successful  competitor 
drew  him  to  Antwerp,  and  what  was  his  surprise,  on 
entering  the  hall,  to  hear  his  own  name  proclaimed 
as  the  victor's ! 

His  mother  supported  herself  and  him  by  a  lit- 
tle business  in  soap.  To  increase  her  delight  he 
had  changed  the  gold  paid  to  him  into  shining  five- 
franc  pieces.  His  pockets  almost  burst  under  the 
weight,  but  there  was  no  end  to  the  rejoicing  when 
he  flung  one  handful  of  silver  coins  after  another  on 
the  little  counter  and  told  how  he  had  obtained  them. 

No  one  who  heard  him  relate  this  story  could 
help  liking  him. 

Another   distinguished   visitor    at    Hirsau    was 
Prince  Piickler  Muskau.     He  had  heard  that  his 
young  Kottbus  acquaintance  had  begun  to  devote 
24 


360  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE. 

himself  to  Egyptology.  This  interested  the  old 
man,  who,  as  a  special  favourite  of  Mohammed  Ali, 
had  spent  delightful  days  on  the  Nile  and  made  all 
sorts  of  plans  for  Egypt.  Besides,  he  was  person- 
ally acquainted  with  the  great  founders  of  my 
science,  Thomas  Young  and  Fran9ois  Champollion, 
and  had  obtained  an  insight  into  deciphering  the 
hieroglyphics.  He  knew  all  the  results  of  the  in- 
vestigations, and  expressed  an  opinion  concerning 
them.  Without  having  entered  deeply  into  details 
he  often  hit  the  nail  on  the  head.  I  doubt  whether 
he  had  ever  held  in  his  hand  a  book  on  these  sub- 
jects, but  he  had  listened  to  the  answers  given  by 
others  to  his  skilful  questions  with  the  same  keen 
attention  that  he  bestowed  on  mine,  and  the  gift  of 
comprehension  peculiar  to  him  enabled  him  to  rap- 
idly shape  what  he  heard  into  a  distinctly  outlined 
picture.  Therefore  he  must  have  seemed  to  lay- 
men a  very  compendium  of  science,  yet  he  never 
used  this  faculty  to  dazzle  others  or  give  himself 
the  appearance  of  erudition. 

"  Man  cannot  be  God,"  he  wrote — I  am  quot- 
ing from  a  letter  received  the  day  after  his  visit — 
"  yet  '  to  be  like  unto  God  '  need  not  remain  a  mere 
theological  phrase  to  the  aspirant.  Omniscience  is 
certainly  one  of  the  noblest  attributes  of  the  Most 
High,  and  the  nearer  man  approaches  it  the  more 
surely  he  gains  at  least  the  shadow  of  a  quality  to 
which  he  cannot  aspire." 


SUMMERS   OF   CONVALESCENCE.  361 

Finally  he  discussed  his  gardening  work  in  the 
park  at  Branitz,  and  I  regret  having  noted  only  the 
main  outlines  of  what  he  said,  for  it  was  as  in- 
teresting as  it  was  admirable.  I  can  only  cite  the 
following  sentence  from  a  letter  addressed  to  Blase- 
witz  :  "What  was  I  to  do  ?  A  prince  without  a 
country,  like  myself,  wishes  at  least  to  be  ruler  in 
one  domain,  and  that  I  am,  as  creator  of  a  park. 
The  subjects  over  whom  I  reign  obey  me  better 
than  the  Russians,  who  still  retain  a  trace  of  free 
will,  submit  to  their  Czar.  My  trees  and  bushes 
obey  only  me  and  the  eternal  laws  implanted  in 
their  nature,  and  which  I  know.  Should  they 
swerve  from  them  even  a  finger's  breadth  they 
would  no  longer  be  themselves.  It  is  pleasant  to 
reign  over  such  subjects,  and  I  would  rather  be  a 
despot  over  vegetable  organisms  than  a  constitu- 
tional king  and  executor  of  the  will  of  the  '  images 
of  God,'  as  men  call  the  sovereign  people." 

He  talked  most  delightfully  of  the  Viceroy  of 
Egypt,  Mohammed  Ali,  and  described  the  plan 
which  he  had  laid  before  this  brilliant  ruler  of 
arranging  a  park  around  the  temple  on  the  island 
of  Philae,  and  creating  on  the  eastern  bank  of  the 
hill  beneath  shady  trees,  opposite  to  the  beautiful 
island  of  Isis,  a  sanitarium  especially  for  consump- 
tives; and  whoever  has  seen  this  lovely  spot  will 
feel  tempted  to  predict  great  prosperity  for  such 
an  enterprise.  My  mother  had  heard  the  prince 


362  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

indulge  in  paradoxical  assertions  in  gay  society, 
and  the  earnestness  which  he  now  showed  led  her 
to  remark  that  she  had  never  seen  two  natures  so 
radically  unlike  united  in  one  individual.  Had  she 
been  able  to  follow  his  career  in  life  she  would  have 
discovered  a  third,  fourth,  and  fifth. 

These  visits  brought  life  and  change  into  our 
quiet  existence,  and  when  four  weeks  later  my 
brother  Ludo  joined  us  he  was  delighted  with  the 
improvement  in  my  appearance,  and  I  myself  felt 
the  benefit  which  my  paralyzed  muscles  had  re- 
ceived from  the  baths  and  the  seclusion. 

The  second  season  at  Wildbad,  thanks  to  the 
increased  intimacy  with  the  friends  whose  acquaint- 
ance we  had  made  there,  was  even  more  enjoyable 
than  the  first. 

Frau  Hallberger  was  a  very  beautiful  young 
woman.  Her  husband,  who  was  to  become  my 
dearest  friend,  was  detained  in  Stuttgart  by  busi- 
ness. She  was  unfortunately  obliged  to  use  the 
waters  of  the  springs  medicinally,  and  many  an 
hour  was  clouded  by  mental  and  physical  dis- 
comfort. 

Yet  the  vivacity  of  her  intellect,  her  rare  famil- 
iarity with  all  the  newest  literature,  and  her  unusu- 
ally keen  appreciation  of  everything  which  was 
beautiful  in  nature  stimulated  and  charmed  us. 
I  have  never  seen  any  one  seek  flowers  in  the  field 
and  forest  so  eagerly,  and  she  made  them  into 


SUMMERS  OF   CONVALESCENCE. 


363 


beautiful  bouquets,  which  Louis  Gallait  called 
"bewitching  flower  madrigals." 

Moritz  Hartmann  had  not  fully  recovered  from 
the  severe  illness  which  nearly  caused  his  death 
while  he  was  a  reporter  in  the  Crimean  War.  His 
father-in-law,  Herr  Rodiger,  accompanied  him  and 
watched  him  with  the  most  touching  solicitude. 
My  mother  soon  became  sincerely  attached  to  the 
author,  who  possessed  every  quality  to  win  a 
woman's  heart.  He  had  been  considered  the  hand- 
somest member  of  the  Frankfort  Parliament,  and 
no  one  could  have  helped  gazing  with  pleasure  at 
the  faultless  symmetry  of  his  features.  He  also 
possessed  an  unusually  musical  voice.  Gallait  said 
that  he  first  thought  German  a  language  pleas- 
ing to  the  ear  when  he  heard  it  from  Hartmann's 
lips. 

These  qualities  soon  won  the  heart  of  Frau 
Puricelli,  who  had  at  first  been  very  averse  to 
making  his  acquaintance.  The  devout,  conserva- 
tive lady  had  heard  enough  of  his  religious  and 
political  views  to  consider  him  detestable.  But 
after  Hartmann  had  talked  and  read  aloud  to  her 
and  her  daughter  in  his  charming  way,  she  said  to 
me,  "  What  vexes  me  is  that  in  my  old  age  I  can't 
help  liking  such  a  red  Democrat." 

During  that  summer  was  formed  the  bond  of 
friendship  which,  to  his  life's  premature  end,  united 
me  to  Moritz  Hartmann,  and  led  to  a  correspond- 


364  THE   STORY  OF   MY  LIFE. 

ence  which  afforded  me  the  greater  pleasure  the 
more  certain  I  became  that  he  understood  me. 
We  met  again  in  Wildbad  the  second  and  third 
summers,  and  with  what  pleasure  I  remember  our 
conversations  in  the  stillness  of  the  shady  woods ! 
But  we  also  shared  a  noisy  amusement,  that  of 
pistol  practice,  to  which  we  daily  devoted  an  hour. 
I  was  obliged  to  fire  from  a  wheel-chair,  yet,  like 
Hartmann,  I  could  boast  of  many  a  good  shot;  but 
the  skill  of  Herr  Rodiger,  the  author's  father-in- 
law,  was  really  wonderful.  Though  his  hand  trem- 
bled constantly  from  an  attack  of  palsy,  I  don't 
know  now  how  many  times  he  pierced  the  centre 
of  the  ace  of  hearts. 

It  was  Hartmann,  too,  who  constantly  urged  me 
to  write.  With  all  due  regard  for  science,  he  said 
he  could  not  admit  its  right  to  prison  poesy  when 
the  ..tier  showed  so  strong  an  impulse  towards 
expression.  I  secretly  admitted  the  truth  of  his 
remark,  but  whenever  I  yielded  to  the  impulse  to 
write  I  felt  as  if  I  were  being  disloyal  to  the  mis- 
tress to  whom  I  had  devoted  all  my  physical  and 
mental  powers. 

The  conflict  which  for  a  long  time  stirred  my 
whole  soul  began.  I  could  say  much  more  of  the 
first  years  I  spent  at  Wildbad,  but  up  to  the  fifth 
season  they  bore  too  much  resemblance  to  one 
another  to  be  described  in  detail. 

A  more  brilliant  summer  than  that  of  1860  the 


SUMMERS  OF  CONVALESCENCE.  365 

quiet  valley  of  the  Enz  will  hardly  witness  again, 
for  during  that  season  the  invalid  widow  of  the 
Czar  Nicholas  of  Russia  came  to  the  springs  with 
a  numerous  suite,  and  her  presence  attracted  many 
other  crowned  heads — the  King  of  Prussia,  after- 
wards the  Emperor  William  I,  her  royal  brother ; 
her  beautiful  daughter,  Queen  Olga  of  Wurtem- 
berg,  who,  when  she  walked  through  the  grounds 
with  her  greyhound,  called  to  mind  the  haughty 
Artemis ;  the  Queen  of  Bavaria —  But  I  will  not 
enumerate  all  the  royal  personages  who  visited  the 
Czarina,  and  whose  presence  gave  the  little  town 
in  the  Black  Forest  an  atmosphere  of  life  and  bril- 
liancy. Not  a  day  passed  without  affording  some 
special  feast  for  the  eyes. 

The  Czarina  admired  beauty,  and  therefore 
among  her  attendants  were  many  ladies  who  pos- 
sessed unusual  attractions.  When  they  were  seated 
in  a  group  on  the  steps  of  the  hotel  the  picture  was 
one  never  to  be  forgotten.  A  still  more  striking 
spectacle  was  afforded  by  a  voyage  made  on  the 
Enz  by  the  ladies  of  the  Czarina's  court,  attired 
in  airy  summer  dresses  and  adorned  with  a  lavish 
abundance  of  flowers.  From  the  shore  gentlemen 
flung  them  blossoms  as  they  were  borne  swiftly 
down  the  mountain  stream.  I,  too,  had  obtained 
some  roses,  intended  especially  for  Princess  Marie 
von  Leuchtenberg,  of  whom  the  Czarina's  physi- 
cian, Dr.  Karel,  whose  acquaintance  we  made  at  the 


366  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

Burckhardts,  had  told  so  many  charming  anecdotes 
that  we  could  not  help  admiring  her. 

We  also  met  a  very  beautiful  Countess  Keller, 
one  of  the  Czarina's  attendants,  and  I  can  still  see 
distinctly  the  brilliant  scene  of  her  departure. 

Wildbad  was  not  then  connected  with  the  rest 
of  the  world  by  the  railroad.  The  countess  sat  in 
an  open  victoria  amid  the  countless  gifts  of  flowers 
which  had  been  lavished  upon  her  as  farewell  pres- 
ents. Count  Wilhorsky,  in  the  name  of  the  Czar- 
ina, offered  an  exquisitely  beautiful  bouquet.  As 
she  received  jt,  she  exclaimed,  "  Think  of  me  at 
nine  o'clock,"  and  the  latter,  with  his  hand  on  his 
heart,  answered  with  a  low  bow,  "  Why,  Countess. 
we  shall  think  of  you  all  day  long." 

At  the  same  instant  the  postillion  raised  his 
long  whip,  the  four  bays  started,  a  group  of  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  headed  by  the  master  of  cere- 
monies, waved  their  handkerchiefs,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  Flora  herself  was  setting  forth  to  bless  the 
earth  with  flowers. 

For  a  long  time  I  imagined  that  during  the  first 
summer  spent  there  I  lived  only  for  my  health, 
my  scientific  studies,  and  from  1861  my  novel 
An  Egpytian  Princess,  to  which  I  devoted  several 
hours  each  day ;  but  how  much  I  learned  from 
intercourse  with  so  great  a  variety  of  persons, 
among  whom  were  some  whom  a  modest  scholar 
is  rarely  permitted  to  know,  I  first  realized  after- 


CONVALESCENCE  AND   FIRST   NOVEL.     367 

wards.  I  allude  here  merely  to  the  leaders  of  the 
aristocracy  of  the  second  empire,  whose  acquaint- 
ance I  made  through  the  son  of  my  distinguished 
Parisian  instructor,  Vicomte  de  Rouge. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

CONTINUANCE    OF    CONVALESCENCE    AND 
THE    FIRST    NOVEL. 

THE  remainder  of  the  summer  I  spent  half  with 
my  mother,  half  with  my  aunt,  and  pursued  the 
same  course  during  the  subsequent  years,  until  from 
1862  I  remained  longer  in  Berlin,  engaged  in  study, 
and  began  my  scientific  journeys. 

There  were  few  important  events  either  in  the 
family  circle  or  in  politics,  except  the  accession  to 
the  throne  of  King  William  of  Prussia  and  the 
Franco-Austrian  war  of  1859.  In  Berlin  the  "new 
era"  awakened  many  fair  and  justifiable  hopes;  a 
fresher  current  stirred  the  dull,  placid  waters  of 
political  life. 

The  battles  of  Magenta  and  Solferino  (June  4 
and  24,  1859)  had  caused  great  excitement  in 
the  household  of  my  aunt,  who  loved  me  as  if  I 
were  her  own  son,  and  whose  husband  was  also 
warmly  attached  to  me.  They  felt  the  utmost  dis- 
pleasure in  regard  to  the  course  of  Prussia,  and  it 


368  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

was  hard  for  me  to  approve  of  it,  since  Austria 
seemed  a  part  of  Germany,  and  I  was  very  fond  of 
my  uncle's  three  nearest  relatives,  who  were  all  in 
the  Austrian  service. 

The  future  was  to  show  the  disadvantage  of 
listening  to  the  voice  of  the  heart  in  political  af- 
fairs. Should  we  have  a  German  empire,  and 
would  there  be  a  united  Italy,  if  Austria  in  alliance 
with  Prussia  had  fought  in  1859  at  Solferino  and 
Magenta  and  conquered  the  French  ? 

At  Hosterwitz  I  became  more  intimately  ac- 
quainted with  the  lyric  poet,  Julius  Hammer.  The 
Kammergerichtrath-Gottheiner,  a  highly  educated 
man,  lived  there  with  his  daughter  Marie,  whose 
exquisite  singing  at  the  villa  of  her  hospitable  sis- 
ter-in-law so  charmed  my  heart.  Through  them 
I  met  many  distinguished  men  —  President  von 
Kirchmann,  the  architect  Nikolai,  the  author  of 
Psyche,  Privy  Councillor  Carus,  the  writer  Charles 
Duboc  (Waldmiiller)  with  his  beautiful  gifted  wife, 
and  many  others. 

Many  a  Berlin  acquaintance,  too,  I  met  again 
at  Hosterwitz,  among  them  the  preacher  Sydow 
and  Lothar  Bucher. 

To  the  friendship  of  this  remarkable  man,  whom 
I  knew  just  at  the  time  he  was  associated  with 
Bismarck,  I  owe  many  hours  of  enjoyment.  Many 
will  find  it  hardly  compatible  with  the  reserved, 
quiet  manner  of  the  astute,  cool  politician,  that 


CONVALESCENCE   AND    FIRST    NOVEL.     369 

during  a  slight  illness  of  my  mother  he  read  Fritz 
Reuter's  novels  aloud  to  her — he  spoke  Platt- 
deutsch  admirably — as  dutifully  as  a  son. 

So  there  was  no  lack  of  entertainment  during 
leisure  hours,  but  the  lion's  share  of  my  time  was 
devoted  to  work. 

The  same  state  of  affairs  existed  during  my 
stay  with  my  aunt,  who  occupied  a  summer  resi- 
dence on  the  estate  of  Privy-Councillor  von  Adels- 
son,  which  was  divided  into  building  lots  long  ago, 
but  at  that  time  was  the  scene  of  the  gayest  social 
life  in  both  residences. 

The  owner  and  his  wife  were  on  the  most  inti- 
mate terms  with  my  relatives,  and  their  daughter 
Lina  seemed  to  me  the  fairest  of  all  the  flowers  in 
the  Adelsson  garden.  If  ever  a  girl  could  be  com- 
pared to  a  violet  it  was  she.  I  knew  her  from 
childhood  to  maidenhood,  and  rejoiced  when  I  saw 
her  wed  in  young  Count  Uexkyll-Giildenbrand  a 
life  companion  worthy  of  her. 

There  were  many  other  charming  girls,  too, 
and  my  aunt,  besides  old  friends,  entertained  the 
leaders  of  literary  life  in  Dresden. 

Giitzkow  surpassed  them  all  in  acuteness  and 
subtlety  of  intellect,  but  the  bluntness  of  his  man- 
ner repelled  me. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  sincerely  enjoyed  the 
thoughtful  eloquence  of  Berthold  Auerbach,  who 
understood  how  to  invest  with  poetic  charm  not 


370 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 


only  great  and  noble  subjects,  but  trivial  ones 
gathered  from  the  dust.  If  I  am  permitted  to  re- 
cord the  memories  of  my  later  life,  I  shall  have 
more  to  say  of  him.  It  was  he  who  induced  me  to 
give  to  my  first  romance,  which  I  had  intended  to 
call  Nitetis,  the  title  An  Egyptian  Princess. 

The  stars  of  the  admirable  Dresden  stage  also 
found  their  way  to  my  aunt's. 

One  day  I  was  permitted  to  listen  to  the  sing- 
ing of  Emmy  La  Gruas,  and  the  next  to  the  peer- 
less Schroder-Devrient.  Every  conversation  with 
the  cultured  physician  Geheimerath  von  Ammon 
was  instructive  and  fascinating;  while  Rudolf  von 
Reibisch,  the  most  intimate  friend  of  the  family, 
whose  great  talents  would  have  rendered  him  capa- 
ble of  really  grand  achievements  in  various  depart- 
ments of  art,  examined  our  skulls  as  a  phrenolo- 
gist or  read  aloud  his  last  drama.  Here,  too,  I 
met  Major  Serre,  the  bold  projector  of  the  great 
lottery  whose  brilliant  success  called  into  being 
and  insured  the  prosperity  of  the  Schiller  Insti- 
tute, the  source  of  so  much  good. 

This  simple-hearted  yet  energetic  man  taught 
me  how  genuine  enthusiasm  and  the  devotion  of  a 
whole  personality  to  a  cause  can  win  victory  under 
the  most  difficult  circumstances.  True,  his  clever 
wife  shared  her  husband's  enthusiasm,  and  both 
understood  how  to  attract  the  right  advisers.  I  aft- 
erwards met  at  their  beautiful  estate,  Maxen,  among 


CONVALESCENCE   AND   FIRST   NOVEL. 


371 


many  distinguished  people,  the  Danish  author  An- 
dersen, a  man  of  insignificant  personal  appearance, 
but  one  who,  if  he  considered  it  worth  while  and 
was  interested  in  the  subject,  could  carry  his  lis- 
teners resistlessly  with  him.  Then  his  talk  sparkled 
with  clever,  vivid,  striking,  peculiar  metaphors, 
and  when  one  brilliant  description  of  remarkable 
experiences  and  scenes  followed  another  he  swiftly 
won  the  hearts  of  the  women  who  had  overlooked 
him,  and  it  seemed  to  the  men  as  if  some  fiend 
were  aiding  him. 

During  the  first  years  of  my  convalescence  I 
could  enjoy  nothing  save  what  came  or  was  brought 
to  me.  But  the  cheerful  patience  with  which  I  ap- 
peared to  bear  my  sufferings,  perhaps  also  the  grati- 
tude and  eagerness  with  which  I  received  every- 
thing, attracted  most  of  the  men  and  women  for 
whom  I  really  cared. 

If  there  was  an  entertaining  conversation,  ar- 
rangements were  always  made  that  I  should  enjoy 
it,  at  least  as  a  listener.  The  affection  of  these  kind 
people  never  wearied  in  lightening  the  burden  which 
had  been  laid  upon  me.  So,  during  this  whole  sad 
period  I  was  rarely  utterly  wretched,  often  joyous 
and  happy,  though  sometimes  the  victim  to  the 
keenest  spiritual  anguish. 

During  the  hours  of  rest  which  must  follow  la- 
bour, and  when  tortured  at  night  by  the  various 
painful  feelings  and  conditions  connected  even  with 


372  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

convalescence  from  disease,  my  restrictions  rose 
before  me  as  a  specially  heavy  misfortune.  My 
whole  being  rebelled  against  my  sufferings,  and — 
why  should  I  conceal  it  ? — burning  tears  drenched 
my  pillows  after  many  a  happy  day.  At  the  time 
I  was  obliged  to  part  from  Nenny  this  often  hap- 
pened. Goethe's  "  He  who  never  mournful  nights  " 
I  learned  to  understand  in  the  years  when  the  beak- 
er of  life  foams  most  impetuously  for  others.  But 
I  had  learned  from  my  mother  to  bear  my  sorest 
griefs  alone,  and  my  natural  cheerfulness  aided  me 
to  win  the  victory  in  the  strife  against  the  powers 
of  melancholy.  I  found  it  most  easy  to  master 
every  painful  emotion  by  recalling  the  many  things 
for  which  I  had  cause  to  be  grateful,  and  sometimes 
an  hour  of  the  fiercest  struggle  and  deepest  grief 
closed  with  the  conviction  that  I  was  more  blessed 
than  many  thousands  of  my  fellow-mortals,  and 
still  a  "  favourite  of  Fortune."  The  same  feeling 
steeled  my  patience  and  helped  to  keep  hope  green 
and  sustain  my  pleasure  in  existence  when,  long 
after,  a  return  of  the  same  disease,  accompanied 
with  severe  suffering,  which  I  had  been  spared  in 
youth,  snatched  me  from  earnest,  beloved,  and,  I 
may  assume,  successful  labour. 

The  younger  generation  may  be  told  once  more 
how  effective  a  consolation  man  possesses — no  mat- 
ter what  troubles  may  oppress  him — in  gratitude. 
The  search  for  everything  which  might  be  worthy 


CONVALESCENCE   AND   FIRST    NOVEL. 


373 


of  thankfulness  undoubtedly  leads  to  that  connec- 
tion with  God  which  is  religion. 

When  I  went  to  Berlin  in  winter,  harder  work, 
many  friends,  and  especially  my  Polish  fellow-stu- 
dent, Mieczyslaw  helped  me  bear  my  burden  pa- 
tiently. 

He  was  well,  free,  highly  gifted,  keenly  inter- 
ested in  science,  and  made  rapid  progress.  Though 
secure  from  all  external  cares,  a  worm  was  gnaw- 
ing at  his  heart  which  gave  him  no  rest  night  or 
day — the  misery  of  his  native  land  and  his  family, 
and  the  passionate  longing  to  avenge  it  on  the  op- 
pressor of  the  nation.  His  father  had  sacrificed 
the  larger  portion  of  his  great  fortune  to  the  cause 
of  Poland,  and,  succumbing  to  the  most  cruel  per- 
secutions, urged  his  sons,  in  their  turn,  to  sacrifice 
everything  for  their  native  land.  They  were  ready 
except  one  brother,  who  wielded  his  sword  in  the 
service  of  the  oppressor,  and  thus  became  to  the 
others  a  dreaded  and  despised  enemy. 

Mieczyslaw  remained  in  Berlin  raging  against 
himself  because,  an  intellectual  epicurean,  he  was 
enjoying  Oriental  studies  instead  of  following  in 
the  footsteps  of  his  father,  his  brothers,  and  most 
of  his  relatives  at  home. 

My  ideas  of  the  heroes  of  Polish  liberty  had 
been  formed  from  Heinrich  Heine's  Noble  Pole, 
and  I  met  my  companion  with  a  certain  feeling  of 
distrust.  Far  from  pressing  upon  me  the  thoughts 


374 


THE    STORY   OF   MY    LIFE. 


which  moved  him  so  deeply,  it  was  long  ere  he  per- 
mitted the  first  glimpse  into  his  soul.  But  when 
the  ice  was  once  broken,  the  flood  of  emotion  poured 
forth  with  elementary  power,  and  his  sincerity  was 
sealed  by  his  blood.  He  fell  armed  on  the  soil  of 
his  home  at  the  time  when  I  was  most  gratefully 
rejoicing  in  the  signs  of  returning  health — the  year 
1863.  I  was  his  only  friend  in  Berlin,  but  I  was 
warmly  attached  to  him,  and  shall  remember  him  to 
my  life's  end. 

The  last  winter  of  imprisonment  also  saw  me  in- 
dustriously at  work.  I  had  already,  with  Mieczy- 
slaw,  devoted  myself  eagerly  to  the  history  of  the 
ancient  East,  and  Lepsius  especially  approved  these 
studies.  The  list  of  the  kings  which  I  compiled  at 
that  time,  from  the  most  remote  sources  to  the  Sas- 
sanidse,  won  the  commendation  of  A.  von  Gutschmid, 
the  most  able  investigator  in  this  department. 
These  researches  led  me  also  to  Persia  and  the 
other  Asiatic  countries.  Egypt,  of  course,  re- 
mained the  principal  province  of  my  work.  The 
study  of  the  kings  from  the  twenty-sixth  dynasty 
— that  is,  the  one  with  which  the  independence  of 
the  Pharaohs  ended  and  the  rule  of  the  Persians 
under  Cambyses  began  in  the  valley  of  the  Nile — 
occupied  me  a  long  time.  I  used  the  material  thus 
acquired  afterward  for  my  habitation  essay,  but 
the  impulse  natural  to  me  of  imparting  my  intel- 
lectual gains  to  others  had  induced  me  to  utilize 


CONVALESCENCE   AND   FIRST   NOVEL.     375 

it  in  a  special  way.  The  material  I  had  collected 
appeared  in  my  judgment  exactly  suited  for  a  his- 
tory of  the  time  that  Egypt  fell  into  the  power  of 
Persia.  Jacob  Burckhardt's  Constantine  the  Great 
was  to  serve  for  my  model.  I  intended  to  lay  most 
stress  upon  the  state  of  civilization,  the  intellectual 
and  religious  life,  art,  and  science  in  Egypt,  Greece, 
Persia,  Phoenicia,  etc.,  and  after  most  carefully  plan- 
ning the  arrangement  I  began  to  write  with  the  ut- 
most zeal.* 

While  thus  engaged,  the  land  of  the  Pharaohs, 
the  Persian  court,  Greece  in  the  time  of  the  Pisis- 
tratidse  and  Polycrates  grew  more  and  more  dis- 
tinct before  my  mental  vision.  Herodotus's  narra- 
tive of  the  false  princess  sent  by  Pharaoh  Amasis 
to  Cambyses  as  a  wife,  and  who  became  the  inno- 
cent cause  of  the  war  through  which  the  kingdom 
of  the  Pharaohs  lost  its  independence,  would  not 
bear  criticism,  but  it  was  certainly  usable  material 
for  a  dramatic  or  epic  poem.  And  this  material 
gave  me  no  peace. 

Yes,  something  might  certainly  be  done  with  it. 

I  soon  mastered  it  completely,  but  gradually  the 


*  I  still  have  the  unfinished  manuscript ;  but  the  farther  I 
advanced  the  stronger  became  the  conviction,  now  refuted  by 
Eduard  Meyer,  that  it  would  not  yet  be  possible  to  write  a 
final  history  of  that  period  which  would  stand  the  test  of 
criticism. 

25 


376  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

relation  changed  and  it  mastered  me,  gave  me  no 
rest,  and  forced  me  to  try  upon  it  the  poetic  power 
so  long  condemned  to  rest. 

When  I  set  to  work  I  was  not  permitted  to  leave 
the  house  in  the  evening.  Was  it  disloyal  to  sci- 
ence if  I  dedicated  to  poesy  the  hours  which  others 
called  leisure  time  ?  The  question  was  put  to  the 
inner  judge  in  such  a  way  that  he  could  not  fail  to 
say  "  No."  I  also  tried  successfully  to  convince 
myself  that  I  merely  essayed  to  write  this  tale  to 
make  the  material  I  had  gathered  "  live,"  and 
bring  the  persons  and  conditions  of  the  period 
whose  history  I  wished  to  write  as  near  to  me  as  if 
I  were  conversing  with  them  and  dwelling  in  their 
midst.  How  often  I  repeated  to  myself  this  well- 
founded  apology,  but  in  truth  every  instinct  of  my 
nature  impelled  me  to  write,  and  at  this  very  time 
Moritz  Hartmann  was  also  urging  me  in  his  letters, 
while  Mieczyslaw  and  others,  even  my  mother,  en- 
couraged me. 

I  began  because  I  could  not  help  it, 'and  proba- 
bly scarcely  any  work  ever  stood  more  clearly  ar- 
ranged, down  to  the  smallest  detail,  in  its  creator's 
imagination,  than  the  Egyptian  Princess  in  mine 
when  I  took  up  my  pen.  Only  the  first  volume 
originally  contained  much  more  Egyptian  material, 
and  the  third  I  lengthened  beyond  my  primary  in- 
tention. Many  notes  of  that  time  I  was  unwilling 
to  leave  unused  and,  though  the  details  are  not  un- 


CONVALESCENCE   AND   FIRST    NOVEL.     377 

interesting,  their  abundance  certainly  impairs  the 
effect  of  the  whole. 

As  for  the  characters,  most  of  them  were  fa- 
miliar. 

How  many  of  my  mother's  traits  the  beautiful, 
dignified  Rhodopis  possessed  !  King  Amasis  was 
Frederick  William  IV,  the  Greek  Phanes  resembled 
President  Seiffart.  Nitetis,  too,  I  knew.  I  had  often 
jested  with  Atossa,  and  Sappho  was  a  combination 
of  my  charming  Frankfort  cousin  Betsy,  with  whom 
I  spent  such  delightful  days  in  Rippoldsau,  and 
lovely  Lina  von  Adelsson.  Like  the  characters  in 
the  works  of  the  greatest  of  writers — I  mean 
Goethe — not  one  of  mine  was  wholly  invented, 
but  neither  was  any  an  accurate  portrait  of  the 
model. 

I  by  no  means  concealed  from  myself  the  diffi- 
culties with  which  I  had  to  contend  or  the  doubts 
the  critics  would  express,  but  this  troubled  me  very 
little.  I  was  writing  the  book  only  for  myself  and 
my  mother,  who  liked  to  hear  every  chapter  read  as 
it  was  finished.  I  often  thought  that  this  novel 
might  perhaps  share  the  fate  of  my  Poem  of  the 
World,  and  find  its  way  into  the  fire. 

No  matter.  The  greatest  success  could  afford 
me  no  higher  pleasure  than  the  creative  labour. 
Those  were  happy  evenings  when,  wholly  lifted  out 
of  myself,  I  lived  in  a  totally  different  world,  and, 
like  a  god,  directed  the  destinies  of  the  persons 


378  THE   STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

who  were  my  creatures.  The  love  scenes  between 
Bartja  and  Sappho  I  did  not  invent ;  they  came  to 
me.  When,  with  brow  damp  with  perspiration,  I 
committed  the  first  one  to  paper  in  a  single  even- 
ing, I  found  the  next  morning,  to  my  surprise,  that 
only  a  few  touches  were  needed  to  convert  it  into 
a  poem  in  iambics. 

This  was  scarcely  permissible  in  a  novel.  But 
the  scene  pleased  my  mother,  and  when  I  again 
brought  the  lovers  together  in  the  warm  stillness 
of  the  Egyptian  night,  and  perceived  that  the  flood 
of  iambics  was  once  more  sweeping  me  along,  I 
gave  free  course  to  the  creative  spirit  and  the  pen, 
and  the  next  morning  the  result  was  the  same. 

I  then  took  Julius  Hammer  into  my  confidence, 
and  he  thought  that  I  had  given  expression  to  the 
overflowing  emotion  of  two  loving  young  hearts  in 
a  very  felicitous  and  charming  way. 

While  my  friends  were  enjoying  themselves  in 
ball-rooms  or  exciting  society,  Fate  still  condemned 
me  to  careful  seclusion  in  my  mother's  house.  But 
when  I  was  devoting  myself  to  the  creation  of  my 
Nitetis,  I  envied  no  man,  scarcely  even  a  god. 

So  this  novel  approached  completion.  It  had 
not  deprived  me  of  an  hour  of  actual  working  time, 
yet  the  doubt  whether  I  had  done  right  to  venture 
on  this  side  flight  into  fairer  and  better  lands  dur- 
ing my  journey  through  the  department  of  serious 
study  was  rarely  silent. 


CONVALESCENCE   AND   FIRST   NOVEL.     379 

At  the  beginning  of  the  third  volume  I  ventured 
to  move  more  freely. 

Yet  when  I  went  to  Lepsius,  the  most  earnest 
of  my  teachers,  to  show  him  the  finished  manu- 
script, I  felt  very  anxious.  I  had  not  said  even  a 
word  in  allusion  to  what  I  was  doing  in  the  even- 
ing hours,  and  the  three  volumes  of  my  large  man- 
uscript were  received  by  him  in  a  way  that  war- 
ranted the  worst  fears.  He  even  asked  how  I, 
whom  he  had  believed  to  be  a  serious  worker,  had 
been  tempted  into  such  "side  issues." 

This  was  easy  to  explain,  and  when  he  had 
heard  me  to  the  end  he  said :  "  I  might  have 
thought  of  that.  You  sometimes  need  a  cup  of 
Lethe  water.  But  now  let  such  things  alone,  and 
don't  compromise  your  reputation  as  a  scientist  by 
such  extravagances." 

Yet  he  kept  the  manuscript  and  promised  to 
look  at  the  curiosity. 

He  did  more.  He  read  it  through  to  the  last 
letter,  and  when,,  a  fortnight  later,  he  asked  me  at 
his  house  to  remain  after  the  others  had  left,  he 
looked  pleased,  and  confessed  that  he  had  found 
something  entirely  different  from  what  he  ex 
pected.  The  book  was  a  scholarly  work,  and  also 
a  fascinating  romance. 

Then  he  expressed  some  doubts  concerning  the 
space  I  had  devoted  to  the  Egyptians  in  my  first 
arrangement.  Their  nature  was  too  reserved  and 


380  THE    STORY   OF    MY   LIFE. 

typical  to  hold  the  interest  of  the  unscientific 
reader.  According  to  his  view,  I  should  do  well 
to  limit  to  Egyptian  soil  what  I  had  gained  by 
investigation,  and  to  make  Grecian  life,  which  was 
familiar  to  us  moderns  as  the  foundation  of  our 
aesthetic  perceptions,  more  prominent.  The  advice 
was  good,  and,  keeping  it  in  view,  I  began  to  sub- 
ject the  whole  romance  to  a  thorough  revision. 

Before  going  to  Wildbad  in  the  summer  of  1863 
I  had  a  serious  conversation  with  my  teacher  and 
friend.  Hitherto,  he  said,  he  had  avoided  any  dis- 
cussion of  my  future  ;  but  now  that  I  was  so  de- 
cidedly convalescing,  he  must  tell  me  that  even 
the  most  industrious  work  as  a  "  private  scholar," 
as  people  termed  it,  would  not  satisfy  me.  I  was 
fitted  for  an  academic  career,  and  he  advised  me  to 
keep  it  in  view.  As  I  had  already  thought  of  this 
myself,  I  eagerly  assented,  and  my  mother  was 
delighted  with  my  resolution. 

How  we  met  in  Wildbad  my  never-to-be-for- 
gotten friend  the  Stuttgart  publisher,  Eduard  von 
Hallberger;  how  he  laid  hands  upon  my  Egyp- 
tian Princess ;  and  how  the  fate  of  this  book  and 
its  author  led  through  joy  and  sorrow,  pleasure 
and  pain,  I  hope,  ere  my  last  hour  strikes,  to 
communicate  to  my  family  and  the  friends  my  life 
and  writings  have  gained. 

When  I  left  Berlin,  so  far  recovered  that  I  could 
again  move  freely,  I  was  a  mature  man.  The 


CONVALESCENCE    AND    FIRST    NOVEL.     381 

period  of  development  lay  behind  me.  Though 
the  education  of  an  aspiring  man  ends  only  with 
his  last  breath,  the  commencement  of  my  labours  as 
a  teacher  outwardly  closed  mine,  and  an  important 
goal  in  life  lay  before  me.  A  cruel  period  of  pro- 
bation, rich  in  suffering  and  deprivations,  had  made 
the  once  careless  youth  familiar  with  the  serious 
side  of  existence,  and  taught  him  to  control  himself. 
After  once  recognizing  that  progress  in  the 
department  of  investigation  in  which  I  intended  to 
guide  others  demanded  the  devotion  of  all  my 
powers,  I  succeeded  in  silencing  the  ceaseless  long- 
ing for  fresh  creations  of  romance.  The  comple- 
tion of  a  second  long  novel  would  have  imperilled 
the  unity  with  myself  which  I  was  striving  to  at- 
tain, and  which  had  been  represented  to  me  by  the 
noblest  of  my  instructors  as  my  highest  goal  in  life. 
So  I  remained  steadfast,  although  the  great  success 
of  my  first  work  rendered  it  very  difficult.  Temp- 
tations of  every  kind,  even  in  the  form  of  brilliant 
offers  from  the  most  prominent  German  publishers, 
assailed  me,  but  I  resisted,  until  at  the  end  of  half 
a  lifetime  I  could  venture  to  say  that  I  was  ap- 
proaching my  goal,  and  that  it  was  now  time  to 
grant  the  muse  what  I  had  so  long  denied.  Thus, 
that  portion  of  my  nature  which  was  probably 
originally  the  stronger  was  permitted  to  have  its 
life.  During  long  days  of  suffering  romance  was 
again  a  kind  and  powerful  comforter. 


J82 


THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE. 


Severe  suffering  had  not  succeeded  in  stifling 
the  cheerful  spirit  of  the  boy  and  the  youth ;  it  did 
not  desert  me  in  manhood.  When  the  sky  of  my 
life  was  darkened  by  the  blackest  clouds  it  ap- 
peared amid  the  gloom  like  a  radiant  star  announc- 
ing brighter  days ;  and  if  I  were  to  name  the  pow- 
ers by  whose  aid  I  have  again  and  again  dis- 
pelled even  the  heaviest  clouds  which  threatened  to 
overshadow  my  happiness  in  existence,  they  must 
be  called  gratitude,  earnest  work,  and  the  motto  of 
blind  old  Langethal,  "  Love  united  with  the  strife 
for  truth." 


TIIE    END. 


THERNBEGIONALUBRARVFACIUTY 


. 


LOS 


BRANCH, 

OF  CALIFORNIA, 
LIBRARY, 

,  CALiF.   . 


